


Dalliance

by Kipkat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Pirates, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:51:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 42,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kipkat/pseuds/Kipkat
Summary: Freedom. Adventure. A new life is all that you, Avery Belmont, had ever dreamed of and you found it aboard the pirate ship, the Jolly Roger. Follow your swashbuckling tale on the high seas with the roguish Captain Hook!This fic takes place place back before the events of the show, but a while after Milah's death, in the fairytale realms.**SOME MATURE THEMES/SCENES**Reader has been named for simplicity. Previously posted on Wattpad and DeviantArt under "My Dalliance".





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _Heyo! This was my first fic (minus the lost Kim Possible fic I wrote when I was 12) so the writing style may differ a bit from my more recent works (and includes a bit more...flippant angst? I guess is the term??). I'm moving it here so hopefully I'm motivated to work on it again. I'm including the prologue here for continuity purposes in case I ever actually get to the part in this story where it becomes relevant again, but as of now, you can just skip it if you'd like and go straight to Ch.2. Thank you dearies, and I hope you enjoy!_

(Modern Day)

_Killian._

The soft voice echoed inside the mind of a sleeping Killian Jones, yanking him from his blissful peace into shocking consciousness. He sat up in the bed he shared with his girlfriend, Emma Swann, and glanced over at her still form, silver shards of moonlight dancing around her head and mixing with her golden hair. 

“Love, did you say something?”

“Mmmmmnnn…..” Emma shifted positions, cradling her arm in her head, drifting right back to sleep.  
The pirate gave a sleepy half-smile and shook his head, wrapping his arm around the Saviors' slumbering form and settling back into bed. She must have just been talking in her sleep. 

Just as he was sinking back into a quiet dreamland, the voice returned, louder than before.

_Killian._

_KILLIAN._

There was a sense of urgency, a force behind the words. They were strained, shouted, until they became a string of shrieks, a pained pleading, a call for help. Killian's eyes flew open and he shot straight up, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing labored. As soon as the screaming started, it cut off, leaving the deafening silence of the dark room ringing in his ears. Emma hadn't moved a muscle; she was sound asleep.

“What the bloody hell…..” He rubbed his temples, piercing blue eyes scouring the room for any source of the noise, anything out of the ordinary. Wearily, he turned his gaze to the night stand, where he kept his flask of rum in the top drawer. “Please don't tell me I need to stop drinking before bed”, he mumbled to himself, uncapping the bottle and taking a swig. “I trusted you,” he scolded. He screwed the cap back on, and closed the drawer, shifting himself back into a comfortable position, and letting out a relaxed sigh. 

He was happy. He had the woman he loved by his side, and all of his immediate vengeful debts had been settled, save for the growing complexity of his crocodile case.  
The fairytale town of Storybrooke had been quiet lately, allowing its' inhabitants to get on with their happy endings. What more could a dashing, villanious-turned-heroic pirate ask for?  
A small smile spread across his face as he once again drifted into the murky depths of unconsciousness.

_Jones._


	2. Stowaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _~J.M Barrie, Peter Pan_

_Another Realm, in the distant past..._

The cool night air brushed against your cheek, whipping strands of hair across your face. The salty smell of the ocean was unfamiliar to you, but somehow welcoming. This is what you had dreamt of for so long, this sense of freedom and adventure. You'd never felt more alive than in this moment.

You clutched your cloak tighter around your body, huddling into a corner of the vessel you had chosen to take you away from here. She was a mighty ship, with tall sails and a rugged looking crew who seemed too preoccupied to notice you sneak aboard. All you needed was a few days, until the ship made port in another town, then you would slip away, nobody the wiser. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you gazed out across the sea. The moon was bigger than you'd ever seen it, and the water glistened like scattered jewels among a vast midnight desert. This was it. Your escape. Your future. Your new beginning.

"You know, we don't usually get stowaways aboard this ship." The silky voice came from the shadows, dripping like honey off a silver tongue. You whipped around in the direction of the voice, eyes wide with fear and surprise. You'd been so careful-

"My, my," the voice chuckled. A man stepped from the shadows of the mast, taking you in with piercing blue eyes that reflected the moonlight.

"Especially stowaways as pretty as you, love." He winked, his eyes smoldering, and made his way over to you with slow, deliberately aloof steps.

Catching your breath, you retreat back a few paces, taking a moment to think of a cover story.

"I'm not a stowaway," you blurt out, tripping over your words. "The captain invited me aboard."

The dark stranger raised a thick eyebrow, intrigue brewing in his perfectly sculpted face.

"Did he now? And how's that?"

You fumbled nervously with your hands, choosing your next words carefully.

"We met in port and shared a...."-you cringed-"...connection. He asked me back to his ship and now...here I am."

You gulped, hoping your lie wasn't too paper-thin. A pit formed in your stomach.

A devilish grin spread across the stranger's face, as he continued his steady gait towards you.

"And here you are," he asserted softly, finally making his way a few inches in front of you. You took a few more quick steps back, but found it useless as you realize you'd backed yourself into your quaint little corner.

He raised his hand and brushed a lock of hair from your face, grazing your flushed cheek, and tucked it behind your ear, leaning forward, his face just inches from yours. Curiously, he looked down at you, and you could see every follicle of stubble gracing his jawline.

"May I have your name? Just to double check with the captain that you have permission to be aboard?"

You tried hard to avert his gaze, staring at your feet and mumbling.

"We never really got on a first name basis..if you know what I mean." You felt your thin lie become almost transparent and the pit in your stomach started dragging you down. Your shoulders sagged, perceptively, and you realized that your adventure might be over before it even began.

His hand darted quickly to your chin, firmly grasping you and tilting your face to look up at him. You stood, paralyzed, as this handsome stranger seemed to look right through you with eyes as dangerous as the sea during a hurricane. You felt his left arm brush up against your shoulder as he seemed to wrap it around you, pulling you closer to him. You jumped at the feeling of cold steel being pressed against your neck, and he seemed to enjoy the small cry that escaped your lips. Your heart was pounding, you had nowhere to go.

_He's going to kill me. He has a knife to my neck. He is going to kill me._

"Because I think I'd remember inviting a pretty little number like you aboard my vessel." A coy smile spread across his face, and the ice cold metal made its way up your cheek, almost caressing you. You jerked your head away, catching a glimpse of the weapon that had been at your throat.

A shiny, metal hook glinted dangerously in the light, casting off stars in the eyes of the man you now faced with utter horror. Of all the ships you could have chosen from, of all the pirates you could have run in to....

Your breath caught in your throat. You pressed your back into the wall behind you, pleading with the gods for you to melt into the smooth grain of the wood. This was a bad idea. You should have stayed home.

_"Hook."_


	3. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Few first-world problems are as bad as reading your old fanfiction. Slight trigger warning for non-consensual sexual material (the act doesn't actually happen.)_

_"Hook."_

Almost unintelligible, with the amount of force of a shallow breath, you exhaled the infamous pirates' name.

"Captain, actually," he cooed, pressing himself into you, and leaning his right arm on the rough wall beside you. He ducked his head, his lips centimeters from your own. You could feel his warm breath on your face, and you shuddered. Using the curved shaft of his razor sharp hook, he aggressively jerked your chin up to face him, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Now, about our.."-he grinned- ".. _connection_."

"I-I'm s-s-so sorry, uh, sir." Your mind was whirlwind, and he was loving every second of you falling over yourself. 

"I promise, I'll leave as soon as we make port, I never wanted to cause you any trouble, I was just trying to-" His sweet breath was making you dizzy, and you seemed to momentarily lose the ability to form words.

Taking advantage of your loss of speech, the pirate swooped down, taking your lips into his and forcefully crushing them. Your eyes flew open and you let out a gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue passed your lips. Frozen, and knees weak, you grasped at the front of his vest and feebly tried to push him away.

"Mmmmnnnnggg.....!" You tried to fight him, but you were no match. A young girl, who had never worked a day in her life against a man who had traveled the seven seas and possibly even the realms- there was no fight to be had.

He relinquished his assault for a moment, allowing you to try and catch your breath.

"Wh-What the hell was that?" You tried to sound outraged, but it came out a whimper.

"Easy love, don't pass out on me. I don't want to make you a liar, that's all."

He ran his good hand across your jaw and through your hair until he reached the nape of your neck. He clutched a handful of your hair and pulled you towards him, immobilizing you and exposing your neck. He roughly ran his lips across your flesh, nipping under your jaw. You let out a cry.

In between violent kisses, he breathed,

"You're officially invited aboard my ship, love."

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, and you tried to yank yourself away one last time. He wrapped his free arm around your waist and shoved you into the wooden planks of the wall, simultaneously lifting your feet off the ground and knocking the wind out of you. Pressing his forehead against yours, he demanded calmly, "Now, for a name. No first names, as your request, but I shall need something to call you by, love."

Choking back tears, silence and ragged breathing was all you could offer him. He pursed his lips, and glanced sideways. You could hear the faint clip clop of footsteps approaching quickly.

"Well, then. You can call me Jones. I'll ask again later. Perhaps you can wait for me in the Captains' Quarters."

He pressed his lips roughly once more to yours, and you felt hot tears roll down your magenta cheeks.

"Captain? Captain?! Is everything okay? I heard a ruckus..." The voice was male and clearly sounded like that of an underling. The footsteps rushed around the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh, my apologies, Captain," the voice stuttered, clearly flustered at his intrusion.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Smee," Hook said venomously, never taking his gaze from you. "Return to your post, we have a full day of travel tomorrow. I don't need any part of my crew dull from lack of sleep."

"Y-yessir."

The flat footsteps scuttled away and disappeared into the night. Hooks' proximity had blocked your view, and even if you had been able to see through your tear-blurred eyes, you never could have seen the man who may have saved your life, even if for just a few seconds.

Hook released his grip on you, just enough to allow your feet to return to the ground. Your knees buckled, and he caught you before you fell any further. You collapsed into his chest, resigned to your fate, letting the black spots overtake your vision and sinking into the warmth emanating from his chest.

Foregoing the recent intrusion, Hook returned his keen attention to you, trapping a loose strand of hair in between his fingers and twisting it behind your ear.

"Now where were we," he murmured, a sinister smile playing across his mouth.

You felt his lips curl into a smile against the heated skin in the hollow of your neck. His tongue traced your collarbone and down to your heaving chest. He paused, withdrawing his gnarled hook from its resting position pinned around your wrist to brush the silver locket hanging loosely around your clavicle. Your arm fell limply to your side as he raised the locket closer to get a better look. The hefty silver pendant was an heirloom, adorned with your family crest: two intricately carved owls displaying a third eye blossoming from their foreheads, seemingly frozen in an elegant dance. The soft silver glinted in the moonlight, and revealed the pirate drawing a hungry tongue across his lips, his dark-rimmed eyes squinting thoughtfully.

"I am a lucky fellow, indeed....." His voice shattered the suddenly deafening silence, and he released the locket, allowing it to fall back onto your bosom with a faint thud.

"...that you chose my vessel to grace with your royal presence." He smirked and lowered his gaze, for the first time noticing your finely tailored garments, gold threaded patterns swirling across fine silks and cottons. Your thick, hooded cloak had obscured most of these details, as was its intention, an obstacle that was easily removed by the one-handed pirate.

With a deft flick of his hook, he popped the clasp of your hood and cast the heavy fabric aside. It landed in a hopeless pile, far out of reach, and the bare skin of your arms and shoulders shivered in the cutting breeze.

Taking you in with lustful eyes, he toyed with the shiny top button of your bodice and angled his face once more towards yours.

"It seems the realm has brought me a present", he said smoothly, glee not escaping his tone. With gleaming cerulean eyes boring into yours, and a quick flick of his hook, the top button of your bodice popped off, bouncing to the wooden deck as if it were relieved to be free of this torment. Blood rushed into your face, and your eyes widened, a sight that clearly pleased Hook. You knew you had to try something, anything- or this pirate was going to hurt you.

Struggling to muster up any sliver of courage, you took a deep breath and called forth the steeliest gaze you could manage, trying (and failing) to keep contact with Hooks' stormy eyes.

"I-if you truly know who I am, then you know of my family. You know they can pay you, or give you any reward you desire for my safe return." The words came out steadier than expected, and Hooks' eyes gleamed, another smile tugging at his lips. "So you do have a ghost of a spine in that figure of yours." He flashed a grin. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to do all the work." He ran a rough hand over your clenched jaw, wiping away a chilled tear with his thumb. Shifting his weight, he repositioned the two of you so that you were now resting against his left side. "But how about this. I do know of your family, more importantly, I know of your family's enemies." He let his words sink in as he pretended to inspect his hook.

A lump caught in your throat. He was right. Any number of jealous nobles, hostile kingdoms, and mercenaries would leap at the chance to have leverage against your family. Or worse, you think to yourself, cringing.

"So why don't you sweeten the deal?" His playful demeanor seemed to sour ever so slightly, if only for a moment. He seemed deep in thought. Absently, his hook returned to your blouse, toying with the second button, sending it flying.

Mind racing, you let the first thing your brain could decipher into a coherent thought come tumbling out of your mouth. "My family- they have vaults."

He arched a perfect brow, and sent another button pinging across the deck. "Vaults?" he murmured inquisitively, his hook making quick work of three more buttons. _Pop. Pop. Ping._ The cold air seeped through the ever-growing gap in your blouse, and you tried not to shiver.

"Y-yes," your voiced wavered. "Backup plans, in case we ever had to run from our enemies. Surely you can understand that much." Your pointed stare caused him to place his hand over his heart in mock offense. "You've wounded me, lass. Luckily, I tend not to leave many a soul behind as can become my enemy." He beckoned you with his hand, "Continue."

You swallowed, trying not to wonder what the fate of your soul would be after having crossed paths with this madman.

"They're scattered all across the realm. Wherever you may sail, you can rest assured there is one within reasonable distance. Gold, coins, jewelery, fine clothing-" you took a breath,"-worth more than you could ever dream of."

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, lightening his grip around the strained button right below your naval.

Hook took a small step back, looking you over thoughtfully. Your blouse was gaping open, exposing porcelain skin all the way down to your abdomen and hinting at a white lace brassiere. Your hair was disheveled, a windswept flyaway catching at the corner of your swollen lips, eyes wide and pleading.

His jaw clenched, an intense wave of lust and longing rushing over him. Tilting his head and absently scratching his neck, he closed the gap between you with a single hurried step, thrusting his head towards you, once again pressing your back to the wall and forcing you to inhale his sickly sweet breath.

"Now you see, that all sounds fine and well, and I'll take the vaults in exchange for not handing you over to some greedy noble with a grudge against your family, pirates honor." His words came out rushed, in a ragged whisper.

"But..." He traced a single finger down your neck, across your clavicle and ever so slowly down the gap between your breasts, eventually circling your navel. Despite yourself, your body shivered and a small tortured moan escaped your parted lips. Hooks' eyes flashed and he drew in a sharp breath. His hand still inside your clothing, he aggressively grabbed your waist, and pulled you into him, slamming your already bruised back into the wall.

"Oh!" You let out a cry of what seemed to be more shock than pain, as the curled metal instrument grazed your throat before embedding itself an inch or two into the aged wood beside your head, seeking balance or restraint, you couldn't tell which.

Hooks' breathing was labored, every muscle in his body tensed. It had been ages since a woman had elicited this kind of reaction from him.

"...I am still a pirate," he continued his earlier thought through gritted teeth.

"And you've said nothing about saving yourself from me."

He lifted his gaze slightly, and you could see his sharp blue eyes burning into you from beneath

hooded lids. Your heart, which had been previously ricocheting around your ribcage, suddenly stopped.

The wind had died down. The only sound was the soft rush of waves lapping against the ships' hull, cutting though the thick silence like it, too, was the ocean beneath their feet.

"Please," you manage, as your heart kick started itself, leaping into your throat.

"You see, love, I take what I want, when I want. And I've already delayed far too long."

Instantly, his good hand was wrapped around your neck, forcing your lips to his. Your fingers leaped to your throat, clutching at the masculine hand, tearing and scratching, grasping at any handhold you could use to pry him away, to no avail. All of your whimpering and thrashing did nothing to calm his assault. In response to your fidgeting, he simply dropped his hand from your throat, taking both of your hands into his in one swift motion, pinning them above your head.

Raking his hook along the outside of your thigh, he hiked up your layered skirts, the sound of shredding fabric echoing in your ears, mixing with the rushing of blood.

You had never felt so vulnerable, so completely embarrassed and exposed. Once again, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, spilling over your cheeks and streaming down your face, this time accompanied by choked sobs. _This isn't how this is supposed to happen. None of this is._


	4. Change of Heart

You squeezed your eyes shut as the onslaught upon your unwilling mouth continued, focusing on the warm trickle of blood making its way down your neck, collecting momentarily in the hollow of your collarbone before pooling over and flowing downwards, soaking into the fabric of your torn blouse.

Bracing yourself, you summoned up the courage for one last ditch attempt at defiance.

Slowly, you parted your lips, allowing his desperate tongue access and eliciting a triumphant grunt from the pirate captain. He slowed his assault long enough to whisper, "I knew you'd come around, love," his lips curling into a devilish smile around your own.

Swallowing your revolt, you clamped your jaw shut fast and hard, causing the pirate to jerk back abruptly with a startled yelp.

Frozen, you watched as Hook wiped his lip with his thumb, staring curiously at the crimson drop it brought back. With a look that wasn't quite as murderous as it was befuddled, with perhaps a smidgen of pride, he shook his head and chuckled. "Feisty one, aren't ya? I wouldn't prefer it any other way." Wiping his hand against his coat, he made his way back to you.

"Alright, lass. That's enough for now. Let's go get you cleaned up."

He furrowed his brow as he noticed the bloodstains on your ruined clothing. Brushing your hair gently aside, he pursed his lips, realizing he may have gone a little too far.

Quietly, in a cadence belonging more appropriately to a child rather than a feared pirate, came the words, "You can have the captains cabin for the night. I'll fetch you a change of clothes."

He extended a hand slowly, gesturing for you to take it.

You eyed him suspiciously, still recovering from the trauma you'd just been subjected to. Incredulously, you wondered what could _possibly_ be the cause of this sudden change of heart. This man was a mystery. You couldn't figure out when his demeanor was about to alter drastically.

A minute passed.

Hooks' hand was still outstretched, unwavering.

Hesitantly, and with more than a few mentally shouted warnings, you dropped your hand into his, not breaking his steady gaze. You hoped your eyes said _'I'm trusting you; don't make me regret this'_ , but the moment your hands touched, a breathtakingly beautiful smile plastered itself across the Captain's face, and you found it difficult to maintain any immediate disgruntlement towards him.

 _He's dangerous_ , your conscious nudged. _Any man this beautiful, and yet that terrifying, is most certainly dangerous._

Noting your half naked body and the shudders that each gust of wind brought forth, Hook shrugged off his calf-length black leather coat, wrapping it around your shaking shoulders. You nodded, staying silent and staring at your feet. Taking your hand again, he led you across the deck, through a heavy wooden door and into a candlelit room. A large oval table decorated the center, and you tapped your fingers on its glossy surface as you were led passed.

Exhaustion set in, every step you took brought you closer to unconsciousness. You shoulders slouched, and you began to lean against the man beside you for support. Your footsteps reverberated throughout the room, ceasing when you stepped through a smaller doorway and onto a plush rug. Eyelids heavy, you gazed around, not registering much else than the massive bed that lay a few feet in front of you. With a whir of color against shadow, you were swept off your feet into strong arms. Hook closed the distance between you and the bed in a few broad strides, gently setting you down upon what seemed to be the softest mattress you had ever known. Your body sank into the many furs and blankets strewn across the bed, not caring for a second if the pirate had ulterior motives for bringing you to his personal chambers. It was just _so soft-_

" _Ow_! What the hell...!"

"Come now, love. Not even a day at sea, and you're already starting to curse like a sailor." The playful tone in his voice was back.

A damp rag with the same sort of sickly sweet smell that the Captain himself reeked of was being pressed against the shallow wound on the side of your neck. You flinched, gritting your teeth as the burning sensation grew stronger, then ebbed away, leaving you with a tingling feeling coursing throughout your skin.

"What is that?"

"Rum. A bloody waste of it, if you ask me."

Without lifting your head from its resting place, you maneuver your gaze towards Hook, and watched as he took a swig from a dark flask. Noticing your curiosity, he offered it to you.

"What does it do? Is it medicine? Is that why you put it on my wound?"

Hook laughed freely at your barrage, mussing his hair as he replied.

"That it is, m'dear. The best medicine a roguishly handsome outlaw like myself could desire."

He took another long draw from the canteen before leaning over you and pressing the metal opening to your lips. You cringed at the strong odor, wrinkling your nose and staring back at him with wide eyes. Your expression caused him to laugh loudly, and he propped himself up on his elbow so he could lean down closer to you.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise." He flashed a smile, offering you the metal container. Skeptically raising a brow, you took hold of the flask, your fingers brushing his against cold steel. A shiver shot through your hand and up your arm, spilling dark liquid over your lips and dribbling down your chin. Hook was upon you in an instant, drying your lips and neck with his sleeve.

"Careful, love," he chuckled. "Nothing more entertaining than a woman who can't handle her liquor." Licking your lips, you decided the taste wasn't as bad as you were expecting. It was definitely stronger than anything you'd ever tried before, but something about the way it spread warmth down your throat and into your chest, emanating out to your limbs was almost comforting. A way to take your mind off of hard-pressed worries and woes. Bringing the flask once again to your lips, you took a proper gulp, squeezing your eyes shut and gagging instinctively as it sweetly burned your throat.

"Easy now, I'm not sure you understand what you're doing yet," the captain laughed softly, delicately swiping the rum from your grasp.

As if on cue, your head became light and dizzy, and sleep beckoned you, the warm blankets pulling you into them. Your eyelids fell and you snuggled against something radiating heat, curling your arm around it. 

"Jones."

Your words slurred, and a breathy laugh came from somewhere high above you.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for not killing me," you mumbled, drifting farther and farther away. Fingers drew a trail through your hair, resting on your cheek, the tingling sensation sending shivers to you in a distant dreamland.


	5. It's a New Day

Slivers of warm light poked through the rustling curtains of a small window, dappling the blankets covering your body and illuminating the room.

Stretching your arms, you winced at the dull pain in your neck and back. You sat up abruptly, wide awake and scanned your surroundings, trying to organize your thoughts from the previous night. Everything seemed hazy, like it had been a dream, but it had all felt _so real_. There had been a ship, and a fearsome, piercing-eyed man. There was something else though, something that didn't quite add up. Knitting the warm blanket between your tense fingers, you chewed your lip, willing yourself to remember.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the man from your dark dreams darted his head inside before waltzing into the room.

"Ah, you're awake," he exclaimed, a pep in his step. "Sorry I had to leave you prematurely this morning, a ship needs her captain."

He stood in front of you, eyes admiring the messy hair falling in ringlets around you face, your eyes still slightly glazed over.

Tilting your head, it all came rushing back to you.

His brutality, the terror that coursed through your trembling body was softened by the memory of his apologetic eyes, his warm hand gently tending to the wounds he had inflicted.

Guardedly, you brought the blankets up to your chest, covering the tattered clothes still clinging to your body. With a sigh, he gestured his hook at a mahogany wardrobe leaning against the wall nearest to you.

"You may find something that fits you in there," he stated, matter-of-factly. Joining you on the edge of the bed, he sat, lowering his voice.

"I would like to apologize," he fidgeted uncomfortably, "for my transgressions last night. It's been a long while since a woman had been on these decks, and I lost my head. I was less than a gentleman. Very bad form."

You cast your eyes downward, suspicious of his apology, but more ashamed that you found your heart beating sporadically at his proximity. Unable to make eye contact, you simply fumbled with your necklace, biting down on your lip absently.

Continuing, Hook kept his voice level.

"I can guarantee your safety aboard this vessel until we make port in Longbourne." He hesitated, glancing at your twitching hands.

"You have my word that once we drop anchor, you'll be free to go. Until then, I suggest you lay low and avoid telling anyone of your origins. There may be honor amongst thieves, but lesser things than a woman have brought discord upon a crew at sea. I would also recommend keeping that hidden," he nudged the silver locket in your hand, brushing your fingers and sending a shock though your body.

Noticing you tense, he withdrew his hand with an apologetic look.

"Now," he stood up, turning towards the door. "Get dressed. Don't want you to be givin' me crew a heart attack, seeing you in those rags. And stay here 'til I fetch you. Duty calls."

Exaggerating a bow, he grasped the door frame, taking one last look over his shoulder at you before he silently drew the door shut.

After a moment, you slid your legs out from underneath the blankets, bare feet touching the warm wood of the floor. Taking a few uncertain steps against the rock of the ship, you made your way over to the wardrobe Hook had pointed out, gripping the ornate handles with both hands and pulling the double doors wide open.

An array of earth-toned and black garments greeted you, hung neatly, without so much as a wrinkle marring the fabrics. Admiring the craftsmanship of the textured apparel, you began swiping through the closet, appreciating the feel of the rugged fabric under your fingers. Everything you had ever owned had been sewed from light-colored, silky fabrics. Beautiful indeed, but these clothes....they intrigued you.

Deciding on an off-white blouse and tight, cinnamon colored slacks, you laid the unfamiliar clothes on the bed, tossing over a thick leather belt and a pair of knee high boots you found fit nicely. Unlacing the rest of your tattered bodice, you slipped the sleeves off your shoulders, and stepped out of it as it softly graced the floorboards. Standing in your thin white undergarments, you felt for the cotton shirt amidst the blankets on the bed, sweeping it up with your fingers and pulling it down over your head.

Turning to look in the mirror on the desk to your right, you realized the top was slightly too big for your slender form.

Returning to the closet, your eyes caught sight of a rich brown corset vest, and you withdrew it with a smile. Slipping the straps over your shoulders, you found it to be a front lace-up, and your fingers worked to draw the thin leather cord through brass eyelets.

You were startled by a knock on the door, and quickly jumped into the trousers you had picked out before rushing to the door and peeking your head out.

Captain Hook looked you up and down, and for a second you thought you saw a sad glimmer in his eyes. He gestured to the half-laced corset, and your cheeks burned with a deep blush, fumbling for the strings. He caught your hands with a small laugh, catching your gaze.

"Let me help you with that." Deftly, his fingers flew over your abdomen and up to your chest, resting alternating laces in his hook while threading them through the eyelets with his hand. On the last loop, he took the laces into his mouth, pulling taught with his teeth.

"Comfortable?"

It took you a second to realize you were staring at him, lips parted in slight awe.

He snickered, tucking the laces into the top of your vest and made his way over to the wardrobe.

"Here," he said softly. "This goes with that vest."

He shrugged a soft dark coat over your shoulders, and your arms slipped through the leather with ease.

Brushing your hair behind your shoulders, he looked you up and down fondly, eyes clouding momentarily. Relaxing his jaw, he held out his hand.

"Shall we?"

What was this man? Although still frightened of him, he intrigued you. There was something about him that put you at ease, while always keeping you on your toes.

Placing a small hand in his, he led you out of the room, to the bright open deck waiting outside.


	6. A Pirate's Life for You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Finally getting to the fun stuff!_
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"Captain! Port side on the horizon!"

Leaping from the crow's nest and foregoing the crews usual ratline, you snatched the thick rope woven throughout the foremast, casting yourself into the air with expert maneuverability. The salty breeze whipped your hair around your face, enveloping you in its familiar embrace as it guided your way swiftly and safely to the deck far below.

One nimble foot after the other, you alighted on the railing a few feet in front of the Jolly Rogers' captain, who had a firm hand on the wheel and a bemused look adorning his tanned face.

Tossing the line aside, you stepped off the railing, boots thudding against the freshly swabbed deck.

"What do you think, enemy ships?" Taking a graceful stride towards him, you nodded in the direction of the growing shadows dotting the edge of where the calm sea met blue sky.

"Sail ho," he corrected you, flashing a brilliant smile. "And there are no friendly ships out this way."

Gesturing for you to take the wheel, your captain slipped his hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing his brass spyglass and opening it to its fullest length with his teeth. Hands caressing the smooth wood of the steering wheel, you felt your cheeks flush slightly at his action. No matter how many times you'd seem him do this, it never got old.

"We're too far out for the Royal Navy to have scouts," he noted, bringing his trusty spyglass up to his eye and squinting against the sunlight. "Hm." He scanned the horizon briefly, expertly eyeing the distant shadows.

"Can't quite make out a flag yet, three vessels at the least. Could be more over the horizon." Collapsing the spyglass, his blue eyes jumped to you, corners crinkling with his dazzling smile.

"Good eye, Miss Belmont. I knew you'd be more useful here with me." He winked, causing you to beam with pride and your heart to lurch in your chest. Then, spinning on his heel and reclaiming the helm, he commanded his ship and crew with the candor and authority any well-seasoned infamous pirate captain worth his salt ought to.

"Mr. Smee, adjust course. Straight into the eye of the wind," he nodded towards the ominous shadows in the distance.

"Aye. You heard the Captain! All hands on deck! Make fast, and bring 'er about!"

The deck was abuzz with movement, lines whipping through the air as sails unfurled, slicing through gusts like a razor blade.

 

It had been three months since you first set a trembling foot aboard the deck of the Jolly Roger. That fateful night had led you down a path you never could of dreamed of, not with all the time in the Realms.

Despite an alarming first night, you had managed to find your place aboard the Jolly Roger, leaving your old life behind and embracing brand new possibilities. You could sail the seas, forever free.

After the Captain had promised you safe passage to Longbourne, you couldn't wait to make port. The food was bland, days were sweltering and the nights frigid. The crew were a hardy, crass bunch who took some getting used to. Eventually, you learned to ignore their lecherous gazes, though you always felt out of place.

You spent the days gazing out at the vast, endless sea, overwhelmed at its sheer size until the boiling sun would prove to be too much for you, and you would have to go below deck. Hook had given you your own private cabin, away from the crew and from his own quarters. This didn't prevent him from constantly dropping by to check on you. This man was so different than the first night you'd met him. Not once had he made any advances since then, decidedly still ashamed of his actions. You'd forgiven him though. You'd trespassed aboard his personal property, lied to him. You understood that another captain or crew may not have been so tolerant.

After a week of sailing across mostly calm seas, the day to drop anchor in Longbourne had finally arrived. You had a satchel packed, containing your necklace and what little gold you'd brought with you. You had gotten rid of your old clothes, not wanting to stick out. Hook had given you permission to keep some of the clothes from his cabin, insisting they looked better on you than they did on him, with a sly wink.

You left the ship with the crew, and they flocked to the taverns, leaving you standing motionless on the dark docks. You looked around at the buildings faintly illuminated with lamplight from the bars and windows of the townsfolk. The village was supposedly a booming port for traders and sailors, but you were surprised at how empty it was this time of night.

You felt lost again. You willed your feet to move across the splintered docks and onto cobblestone streets, but they wouldn't budge.

Spinning on your heel, heart suddenly racing, you marched back out onto the docks, listening to the waves lapping against the hulls of the moored ships, until you stood in front of the Jolly Roger. You'd never really seen her from the front; when you'd first snuck aboard, you'd chosen her because she was the closest ship to you in the black night. The wooden panels of her hull were polished to a shine, nary a scratch tarnished her finish. She truly was a beautiful vessel, one that did not look like it belonged to a pirate.

This ship was home to so many, and they cared for one another. It gave them a purpose, a reason to live.

You'd set a determined foot upon the gangplank leading back up to her decks, when a voice caught you by surprise.

"I figured you'd be back, love. Most women can't resist."

The Captain was leaning again the side rail of his ship, overlooking the seaport and the half-moon that shone in the night sky, flask in hand.

Solidifying your resolve, you traipsed up the planks, hopping onto the deck and joining Hook, swiping the flask from his hand and taking a long swig.

Wiping your mouth, you handed it back, feeling his bemused eyes on your face.

"Long day, love? We made port nearly an hour ago. Figured you'd be long gone by now, running from your problems elsewhere."

You were quiet. It didn't escape you that the passed week had been the most captivating week of your life, albeit rather stressful. Still.....

"I want to stay."

Raising a dark brow, he passed the rum back your way, and you drank again, realizing you'd said those words aloud.

"This is no life for a lady, m'dear."

"I'm not a _lady_ ," you retorted, words escaping harsher than you meant them to.

"When we first met, you called me royalty. I'm not royalty."

You sighed. "It's true I come from a distinguished family, but that's all it is. A fancy name, held to fancy old-world traditions." The Captain glanced at you before returning to his drink.

"My ancestors were Oracles, mystical seers who could predict the future, or some nonsense." You flailed your hands in the air, showing that you took all this very seriously. Hooks' lips hinted at a smile, and he leaned against his elbow to turn towards you.

"That was centuries ago. Now, all the children are subjected to a variety of tests."

"Tests?"

You nodded. "Looking for the next Oracle in our lineage. There hasn't been one in ages, but for some reason....they just keep trying."

"And that's why your here, because you didn't approve of these..tests?" He feigned interest.

"I got out. Finally. I couldn't stand to listen to the drone of another single lesson about how we had to strive to be _worthy_ of the 'gift' we could have. We were failures because the gods hadn't seen fit to bless us with the Sight our ancestors had."

"Sorry 'bout that, love. Might seem a tad bothersome, but...bad enough enough to run from your family?" He caught your glare, and added, "I mean, it sounds horrible, really...really horrible.." He drank quickly and deeply.

You removed your jacket, placing it on the railing, and started unlacing the front of your blouse.

"Whoa, hey there love, it's just the rum, you don't have to-"

"Oh, will you stop it, I'm _fine_ ," you snapped, brushing his hand from your shoulder and exposing your skin.

"Look." You turned your back to him and offered your shoulder blade, pulling away the fabric so he could see the scarred white lines etched into your skin.

"Bloody hell," he mused, gently running his fingers across the raised edges. Upon closer inspection, he realized they stretched all the way down to the small of your back, ancient runes of an origin unknown to him. Your skin shivered at his touch, and you covered your shoulder, tying your shirt back up.

"It goes down the other side, too." Slipping your arms through your jacket, you braced yourself against the wind and the shame. You'd never shown anyone your scars before.

"They do that to all the children?"

You nodded. "They did. I'm the last. For now."

You closed your eyes against the soft light of the moon and allowed the breeze to carry your hair back, taking in the calm and enjoying the peace it brought you.

Hook cleared his throat.

"Life on the sea isn't as idle as it may seem, love. You'll have to pull your own weight here if you want to stick around."

Opening your eyes wide, you looked at him in bewilderment.

"You're saying....I can stay?"

"There's no room for deadweight aboard my ship, dearest. If you fall in with us, you need to become one of us." He pocketed his flask, and stretched his open hand towards you.

"So what say you, love.....

Is it a pirates' life for you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snapping back to the present, your Captain called to you.

"Belmont!"

"Aye!""

A sly smile spread across his face, and his eyes glimmered darkly. "Strike colors."

"Sir?"

"You've been aboard this ship for a decent amount of time now. What say you we have some fun?"

Hesitantly, you nodded and, sprinted down the deck, lowering the flags in a sign of surrender as you approached the mysterious vessels growing closer by the minute.

You were sure Hook knew what he was doing-he didn't seem worried whatsoever- but your heart still fluttered in your chest and a knot formed in your stomach. Out of all the time you'd been aboard the Jolly Roger, you'd never been involved in a hostile encounter.

You made your way back to the Captain, curiosity blooming in your eyes.

"Alright, just follow my lead, m'lady," he said, giving you a reassuring smile. Placing your faith in the Captain, you watched cautiously as the unknown vessels pulled by on either side of you, slowing to a halt. This was your life now. Traveling the seas alongside your crew mates, swashbuckling and piracy abounding.

"And here we go, love."


	7. Curfew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Apologies for the flashback scenes! Forgot I used to do that. I also forgot that I actually kind of like this chapter xD I hope you all are doing well! <3 _
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"Ahaha! Did you see their faces?! They didn't know what hit 'em!" You laughed breathlessly, rounding the corner of a dark alleyway. The stocky figure behind you clambered to an unsteady halt, doubling over to catch his breath.

"Miss.....Belmont...I...really...think we should...return...to the ship," the stocky pirate stammered in between gulps of air.

You admired the blood-red rubies dripping from the silver chain entwined in your fingers, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the success of your most recent "recovery" mission.

"Alright, Smee. You're right. I just have to return this to the family those bastards took it from. I'll be half an hour, tops." You tucked the necklace into your pocket, smiling up at Smee's hesitant look.

"Unless you prefer to accompany me? Last I saw, they were still at that tavern we tailed the thieves from, across town."

"I'm not supposed to let you wander on your own...."

You glared at him, then sighed. "I know, I'm sorry...I just don't know why he can't just let me do things on my own. I'm hardly his responsibility." You let down your hair and shrugged on your coat, which Smee had been kind enough to carry for you while you incapacitated the two burglars from earlier.

"Come on, then. We'll be quick."

The two of you made your way across the seaside town, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling port. Vendors with wooden stands shouted to the crowd of passing people, offering a variety of foods and trinkets. You quickly located the couple just outside the tavern, a sobbing woman and a weary man that was trying to comfort her. You returned their stolen property, much to their relief; apparently it had been all they had to pay for their ailing child's medicine.

You refused the payment they tried to bestow upon you, until the woman grabbed your hands and pressed two copper coins into your palm, weeping with thanks.

"Don't mention it, just a concerned citizen," you smiled modestly, covertly slipping a small pouch of gold into the man's pocket with a wink. He smiled and nodded in understanding, tears threatening to brim over his tired eyes.

On the way back to the ship, Smee spoke up. "The Captain's not going to be thrilled that you keep giving away his gold."

You laughed. "The Captain doesn't have to worry. That was my gold. I'd been saving it for something like this."

Growing up in wealth, with lavish parties and gowns and treasures as far as the eye could see, you'd had your fill. You had held onto the small amount of money you'd brought with you until you were sure you didn't need it; the crew did well enough in trades and the occasional plunder. You had slowly been giving it all away to those in greater need, and had no regrets.

"You're quite a generous person, miss. Which begs the question, if you don't mind me asking....why are you here? Among pirates?"

You flashed him a smile. It was a fair enough question.

"Because, my dear William, I don't have a bedtime here."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Back on board the Jolly Roger..._

 

 

"You do have a curfew, you know," Killian chided. "I need my crew back at a decent hour, and rested. Can't sail a ship when you're half asleep."

"What?! Nobody else has a _curfew_ ," you cried, incredulous.

"Sure they do. Isn't that right, Smee?"

"I always go to bed early, sir-"

"See? There you have it, Miss Belmont. All my crew have a very strict regiment to stick to."

A mob of your crewmates ambled by, drunk and disorderly, staggering down onto the docks to the taverns once again. You could've sworn you'd heard one slur "We're gonna stay out all night!"

You narrowed your eyes at Killian, placing a hand on your hip. He shrugged.

"They'll get a very stern talking to in the morning."

You threw your hands up in exasperation, and turned on your heel.

"Whatever. I'm going to my room. Thanks for babysitting me today, Smee." You stormed off, slamming the hatch behind you and delving below deck.

Anger nipped at your insides, clouding your vision. What's gotten into him? Why is he so overprotective now? Something had been....off about him. You could feel it. Ever since the heist the crew had pulled a few weeks ago, he'd been distant. You weren't exactly sure why. Everything had seemed to go off without a hitch. 

Well, maybe there had been a _slight_ hitch.

You had watched in amazement as the Jolly Roger was boarded by a handful of strange men. Killian had kept them occupied with casual conversation while, unbeknownst to most onlookers, the majority of the crew had crept onto their ships, unloading hundreds of pounds of cargo and bringing it aboard the Jolly Roger by rope and dinghy.

The whole operation was pulled off with such precision, and it wasn't hard to conclude that they had had their fair share of practice.

You had stood by Killian's side silently, averting your eyes from the robbery in progress. You noticed Killian was mouthing words to himself, something you couldn't quite make out, but...it had sounded like he was counting. At one point, the opposing crews had dialed up the malice, and threatened to take the ship in addition to everything on board.

He had smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Three weeks ago...._

"Belmont, what's that up there?" Killian said, directing your attention to the sky above.

"I don't-"

_BOOM._

_BOOM._

An earsplitting shatter echoed across the water, stretching out in all directions. A flash of orange caught your eye, and thick plumes of black smoke billowed from two of the vessels.

Instinctively, you took a step back, watching as debris littered the air, plunging into the ocean all around the Jolly Roger.

The enemy pirates turned to the scene, in shock.

"Huh. I hate it when that happens," Killian scratched his head. "Must've left some gunpowder near a torch. Rookie mistake, but it happens to the best of us." He gestured to the one ship left unmarred. "Oh look! At least you got one left, mates. I suggest you be on your way. Might want to talk to your crew about proper safety protocol. Saves lives."

He was his cheery self, until one of the pirates drew his sword, lunged forward and held it to your throat. He dragged you backwards, tossing your cutlass aside and pinning your hands behind your back.

"Killian," you gasped in surprised, struggling against a much larger opponent.

Hook's face turned to stone, and he flinched forward, halting himself as the blade dug deeper into your skin.

_Damnit, how could you have been so careless?_

"Easy now, mate," Killian said, sheathing his sword and outstretching his hand. "Think carefully. You're outnumbered, and you have nowhere to go. Just...give me the girl, and we'll drop you and your crew off at your remaining ship."

"How about we take your ship, I kill you, and I keep the girl for a while?" The hulking pirate sneered.

"It's okay, love," he directed to you, with a reassuring smile.

The pirate's grip on your wrists tightened and you tried to stifle a cry. Killian bristled.

"I'm giving you a chance, I suggest you _take_ it."

You felt the pirate shake with thunderous laughter, wincing as his blade bounced against your skin.

"Learn your place, boy." With a swift motion, you were yanked off your feet and thrown aside like a ragdoll, hurdling over the rail of the ship and plummeting into the dark water below.

 

You hadn't grown up around water, and therefore never had much occasion to swim.

You regretted that now.

Sputtering, your head broke the surface of the water and you flailed your arms, trying to stay afloat. Your coat was dragging you down, and you were being pulled under the ship by the current.

You gasped for air, your hands scraped at the hull of the ship as you tried to push yourself away, cutting your palms on the barnacles encrusting the slick wood. Dark spots dotted your vision, and you began to sink below the surface. Everything went numb, and your limbs went limp, mind and body sinking into a murky abyss.

 

You came to, ears ringing and eyes burning. The world seemed muffled, and you could just make out a shadowy figure hovering above you. You coughed violently, expelling saltwater from your lungs and sucking in air.

You felt the hard surface of the deck underneath your head, resting your cheek against the warmth it had taken from the sun. Your body shuddered and you curled yourself into a ball, wringing your hands together to try and stimulate blood flow.

"For god's sake, get me a blanket!" The ragged shout tore through your hazy reality, bringing everything back into focus. You felt a hand on your forehead, wiping tendrils of wet hair from out of your eyes and mouth, and something soft was thrown over your chilled body.

"Kllliinn," you mumbled incoherently.

"It's me, I'm here," he said, lifting your head up into his chest, arms wrapped around you, warming you.

You felt water droplets fall on your cheek, and momentarily wondered if it was raining.

"Killieenn, yur wet."

He let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head in an effort to dry his hair.

"Killiaann, I don't swim too good." You were beginning to realize how ridiculous you sounded, and couldn't help but giggle in spite of yourself.

Still in a daze, you clutched his soaked shirt sleeve and tried to sit yourself up, becoming aware of the rest of the crew circling around you.

You glanced around slowly. "What happened to the others?"

Killian hesitated, then turned to the horizon where you could see a single ship turning away amidst the watery rubble of the two sunken vessels.

"Taken care of. They left."

"Oh okay. So....successful day, overall?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "In a manner of speaking. Most of their cargo was stolen navy goods, so we'll have to dump it unless we can find the right buyer." He helped you to your feet, but you were still unsteady and lurched forward with the rocking of the ship. You caught a glimpse of a deep red stain spattered across the deck, which was being scrubbed down by one of the crew, when Killian caught you.

"Whoa there, love. Let's get you some rest. I'll take you to your cabin."

You nodded, and he balanced you against his shoulder, supporting you with an arm wrapped around your waist. The two of you descended below deck, and he helped you hobble into your room.

"We really should work on that swimming thing," he teased, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

You felt him staring at you with a strange intensity, and looked up to meet his gaze.

"Thank you," you said clearly, taking in his appearance. His damp hair was tossed about, loose strands plastered across his forehead, and his clothes were still dripping, clinging to his form.

"You.....jumped in after me?"

"Well to be fair, Smee offered, but he's not the strongest swimmer either."

The two of you stood there, in a puddle of seawater in your darkening cabin.

Hesitantly, he tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind your ear, touching your shoulder as he withdrew his hand, eyes locked on yours. His fingers left a trail of goosebumps running down your arm, and his blue eyes seemed to looked right into you.

"Killian..."

He took a step closer to you, his lips inches from yours.

"I...think I'm going to get changed now," you whispered, breaking the silence.

"Of course," he replied, pulling away after a moment.

 

"You could stay." Your heart lurched into your throat when you realized what you had said.

He stopped in his tracks, a few feet from the door. You saw him stiffen, and his shoulders rose and fell perceptively.

"I'd be of no help to you, Avery." His voice sounded strained, like he was gritting his teeth.

And with that, he'd left, and had kept his distance ever since. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	8. All You Need Is Smee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _***EDIT***: it turns out I skipped a brief chapter in between this and the next, so I'm just going to insert at the end of this one. Sorry for the confusion! It's fixed now!_
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You slammed the door to your cabin shut, and it rattled on its hinges. You knew Killian wouldn't be able to hear it, but part of you liked to believe he could feel your frustration with him reverberate throughout the ship.

You flopped down on your bed, pressing a pillow to your face and screaming into it until your throat hurt, and you had calmed down.

He had left you, he had just _left you_ , standing there in the middle of the cabin, dripping wet and shivering, after you'd invited him to stay.

_What were you thinking_ , you scolded yourself.

Maybe it was because you'd messed up, and put them in jeopardy when you were taken hostage by the enemy pirate. You should've been more careful. Now Killian doesn't even trust you to walk through town without a bodyguard.

This was ridiculous.

He hadn't seemed upset with you afterward...you could've even sworn he'd tried to get close to you.

But _he_ had rejected _you_ , so you weren't sure what to think.

You threw the pillow across the room, and it hit the wall with a flat _thud_ and bounced to the ground.

In the weeks since the incident, he'd hardly said a word to you. You couldn't help but feel slightly hurt. You spent most of your time in town, when the ship made port, and with Smee. Although you hadn't thought it at first, he was actually decent company, albeit a little skittish.

A small knock on the door distracted you from your thoughts, and you dragged your feet to the door to answer it.

"Miss? Are you in there?" A nervous voice came from the other side of the door.

"What is it, Smee," you said flatly.

"Uh, could I come in for just a minute? I believe you may need to talk to someone."

"So now he's sent you here to be my _therapist?_ "

"No, no no, I came here on my own. He actually told me not to bother, but...you know the Captain. He can be a little hardheaded."

You sighed and yanked open the door, motioning for him to come in. You shut the door and turned to him.

"So....?"

"Oh, I'm here for _you_ to talk, miss. I am perfectly adept at listening." He removed his red cap and clasped it between his meaty palms.

You decided to go with it. Smee was kind enough; you hadn't figured out how trustworthy he was just yet, but that didn't matter right now.

"Fine," you exhaled, taking a seat on the bed and offering him a spot.

"Does the Captain talk to you? About personal matters," you added.

"As far as the crew and myself are concerned, the Captain doesn't have personal matters," he admitted, realizing how little help that offered.

You rubbed your temples, and rested your hands on your knees. Something else had been bothering you, but with Killian acting as strange as he had been, you hadn't brought it up.

"Smee....did Killian...did he kill that man? The pirate that threw me overboard."

He fidgeted, looking away.

"Yes, miss. Before you hit the water."

_So those had been bloodstains_ , you thought, remembering the reddish sheen painted on the deck after Killian had hauled you back from the water.

You took a breath.

"Thank you, Smee."

"Ran him straight through with his sword, in front of his whole crew," he continued, rambling. "That's when the others decided to leave. Apparently, they were in disagreement over the whole 'tossing you in the sea' bit."

"Smee-"

"Then he dove straight in after you, hardly missing a beat. You were unconscious for a while. He was quite frantic, miss."

You paused.

"Why has he been so distant with me?"

The stocky man, placed his cap back on his head.

"That, I could not even begin to tell you, miss. I've known the Captain for a very long time, and even I don't know why he does the things he does. Aside from being fueled by revenge, but...this doesn't seem like one of those times." He cleared his throat. "Would you like my honest opinion?"

You nodded.

"I think you scared him. I think you are a rarity to him. He doesn't often welcome strangers into his crew or even aboard his ship, let alone stowaways. He found something in you that he hasn't had in a long time, and I think he realized that when he almost lost you."

You were taken aback, and blinked away the moisture that had begun to form in the corners of your eyes.

"If you want my honest opinion," Smee concluded.

You touched his shoulder, and planted a kiss on his round cheek. "Thank you, Smee," you said with a solemn smile. "You were right. This helped."

He got to his feet, face beet red. "I- I'm glad I could be of service, miss." He turned to the door.

"Miss Belmont?"

"Yes?"

"Just...be patient with him. He'll come around."

He slipped through the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your heart softened. Maybe you'd been too quick to anger. Killian did seem to have a way to drive you up the wall, though.

You sighed, placing your head in your hands.

_He found something in you that he hasn't had in a long time._

What had Smee meant?

You doused the lamp on your bedside table, and drew the covers over your shoulders. Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed yourself to fall asleep.

*******************************************************************************************************************

 

You tossed in your bed one last time until you determined that you weren't getting any sleep   
tonight. You threw the blankets off of you and sat up, suddenly feeling stifled in the cramped cabin. You laced up your boots and hurried down the hallway, to the upper deck. 

Moonlight filtered through the crossed slats in the hatch door, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you stepped into the fresh night air, a gentle breeze carrying away your anxiety. The deck was empty, for the most part. You spotted a still figure up near the bow, leaning across the rail, flask in hand. 

Swallowing the twinge of anger and hurt that reared up inside you, you took a deep breath and walked calmly to him, taking the stairs up to the bow one at a time, concentrating on each step. You rested your elbows on the wooden support a few feet from him, gazing out at the silvery ripples of the now-tranquil sea. 

You stayed that way for what seemed like an hour before you mustered up the courage to face him. 

You don't know how long he'd been watching you, but your eyes met his instantly. You looked away immediately, forgetting everything you wanted to say to him in that moment.   
You felt his gaze burn into you, and saw him raise his flask out of the corner of your eye, taking another deep swig. You fought the urge to fidget and leave, instead planting your feet firmly onto the deck. You stubbornly returned his stare, refusing to break away. 

“Hm.” He tucked what remained of the rum into his coat pocket and turned, resting his back against the rail. “Can't a man get some privacy aboard his own ship, anymore?”

“Oh, so you're talking to me now? Are we going to have an actual conversation?” The words came out harsher than you intended. You just couldn't understand while he was acting like such a child. 

“Good point.” He headed towards the stairs at a brisk pace, catching you off guard. 

“Wha-wait, Killian, please. I'm sorry. I just...I don't know what I did, to make you act this way toward me. Help me understand. Please,” you pleaded with him. 

He stopped, spinning on his heel and walked right up to you.   
“You...” he started, shoving his finger in your face. The sweet smell of rum poured from him, and you could tell he'd had a tad too much to drink. The air around you was thick with an odd tension, concealing the ghosts of words unspoken. 

“Oh, Jones. Look at yourself.” You swatted away his hand, taking another risk and placing yours gingerly against his cheek. To your surprise, his eyes flickered shut and he leaned his face into your palm. You figured now would be as good a time as any to get answers, but you were very careful not to antagonize him. 

“What's wrong, Killian?” You murmured, feeling your anger towards him dissipate. His clothes were disheveled and his hair was mussed. His blue eyes opened slightly, seeming to glow coolly in the silver moonlight.   
Wordlessly, he closed the small gap between the two of you, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace.   
You froze, unable to reciprocate, let alone understand the motion. He nestled his head against your neck, pulling you in tighter, still not having said a word.   
Unblinking, you stood there, mind a blur, trying to figure out the meaning of this...unexpected action.

Your heart was beating rapidly, and you prayed he was too drunk to notice. 

Killian raised his head, pressing his lips to your forehead, before letting you go and retreating down the stairs to his cabin without a word. 

Once again, he left you standing all alone, wanting for something more.


	9. O' Captain, My Captain

Today started out like any other day aboard the Jolly Roger.

You woke to the gentle rocking of the ship, moonlight filtering through the round window in your cabin. You unclasped your nightgown and slipped into your white cotton shirt and dark pants. None of the other crew had night-specific clothing; this was one of the habits you had brought with you into this life.

Foregoing your leather coat and cutlass you headed to the door, combing your fingers through your hair.

Your cabin was below deck, separated from the crews quarters by a thick door and a short hallway connecting the upper deck to the cargo hold. Your boots thudded softly against the wood, mixing with the sound of footsteps overhead. You threw open the hatch and climbed the steps on to the deck. The sea was mostly calm, with small rolling waves carrying the ship towards wherever your next destination awaited.

There were only two crewmen on deck this time of morning, and they were both quietly tending to their posts. You cast your gaze upwards, to the helm where the ships' Captain stood still against the pale light. You hopped the steps toward him, the soft breeze tossing strands of long hair across your cheeks. He smiled when he saw you, and gestured for you to come closer.

"G'morning, love," he said enthusiastically. You felt your cheeks turn pink. Since you had confronted him the other night, Killian had been acting like his old self around you again.

"Did you get _any_ sleep?" You criticized, and he laughed at your expression.

"I was waiting for my first mate to relieve me." He dramatized a yawn, releasing the wheel and stretching his arms into the air. "About time you got here."

You blanched. "Huh?" You looked around to make sure Smee hadn't snuck up behind you without your notice.

"But...I'm not your first mate."

"Come here." He beckoned for your hand, which you outstretched hesitantly. He took it into his and gently pulled you towards him, wrapping both arms around your side and pressing your back into his chest. This motion was so unexpected, you faltered. Your mind whirred and you fought to keep your balance. He placed your hand on the smooth surface of the Jolly Rogers' steering wheel, his hand encapsulating yours.

"There," he whispered, his dizzying voice ringing in your ear. Your free hand automatically twitched to the wheel. He chuckled, breathing softly against your neck.

"Now you're steering us."

You realized you'd been holding your breath, and exhaled as calmly as your rapid pulse would allow.

"I- I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," you mumbled in protest.

"Nonsense, you're doing just fine. Just keep us headed straight on. Follow that star," he said, pointing out one of the few glowing specks still in the sky. A slight pinkish hue had started to paint the horizon, chasing the stars away. You nodded slightly, ashamedly trying to burn this memory into your mind.

"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to try and catch some shut eye," he yawned, and rustled your hair as he withdrew from your side.

"Alright, good morning!" You teased, as your heart sank ever so slightly.

You heard a soft thud and glanced behind you. Instead of plodding down the steps to his cabin, he'd nestled himself against the rail of the ship, hands crossed over his abdomen and boots propped up onto a small wooden cargo box. His eyes were already closed, dark lashes and brows defining his features in stark contrast to the soft lighting that was beginning to creep onto the deck. 

You smiled to yourself and turned around, truly feeling the smooth grain of the wood beneath your palms and the rock of the ocean underfoot. The upcoming sun splashed warmth across your face and shoulders, and you listened to the sails whip in the breeze overhead.

All around you was open ocean, not a piece of land or another vessel to be seen. It was the most peaceful you'd felt in a long while.

A few hours went by with you silently manning the helm. The crew had changed shifts and the deck was lively again. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, taking with it its warmth. The wind had begun to pick up and the temperature dropped.

You snapped out of a hazy daydream when you heard the solid thump of boot heels hitting the deck behind you.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," you called over your shoulder. You were greeted with a yawn and a pat on the head.

"Can you take this thing now? I need to get my coat, I'm _freezing_ ," you complained, clutching your shoulders as another gust of wind tore through your thin cotton top.

Killian laughed. "That's actually not a bad idea, mind grabbing mine as well?" You nodded and skipped down the steps towards Killian's cabin.

Once you were safe within the confines of the cabin and, most importantly, _alone _, you allowed yourself to feel every emotion you kept bottled up inside while you were around Killian. You braced yourself against the wood paneling of the wall, palms flat against the surface, and took slow deep breaths. Your relationship with the pirate had always baffled you, from being a victim to becoming one of his crew to, ultimately, a very good friend. The man you'd met that first night had never made another appearance; instead, your would-be captor had turned out to be a troubled, yet good man. You found yourself drawn to him, an insatiable desire that you weren't sure how to satisfy, and were too scared to act upon.__

__

Trying to shake your head clear of these thoughts, you walked briskly across the room to where Killian kept his coat hanging on the corner of the wardrobe. You snatched it down and folded it over you arm, realizing this was the first time since the morning after you'd stowed away that you'd been in this room. You looked at the bed, remembering where he'd tended to the wound he'd caused you. He had been so gentle by then, it was hard to believe he was the same man who had assaulted you earlier. You sighed, wondering how exactly you had been fortunate enough to meet someone as.....intriguing as Killian. 

It had taken a while after the incident for him to loosen up around you; he had seemed perpetually ashamed and avoided you most of the time in the beginning. Eventually, he must have realized that you had forgiven him, as he began striking up casual, yet quick conversations. These conversations then turned to longer talks and, finally, what you could swear were flirtations. The idea of the latter filled your stomach with butterflies. Yes, you'd been courted before, but those times had been arranged for the purpose of possible business transactions, and were typically accompanied by men much older than yourself, never with someone you fancied. That was also another conclusion you had arrived at, although it had taken many weeks of self-doubt and denial until you finally realized it: You fancied him. You often discovered that you were looking at him longer than you should be, and smiling way too often. It was hard to catch yourself, but you weren't sure he noticed. You found yourself wondering how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair, and tried to remember what his lips tasted like- 

Frustrated with yourself, you took a seat on the corner of the bed, pressing the coat into your lap and kneaded the leather absentmindedly. You had to collect yourself before you saw him again. 

The door slammed on its hinges, startling you. You leapt to your feet, still clutching the coat. 

"Belmont, is everything all right? You were gone for a while, I figured I'd misplaced it..." 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

"N-no," you stammered. "I have it right here." You lifted the garment, clutching it tightly. 

Killian's piercing blue eyes scanned your face, no doubt noticing how hard you were biting down on your lip. 

He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. "You alright?" 

Instinctively, you took a step back, wincing and immediately regretting your action. 

"Yup," you sputtered. "Actually, I think I might go to bed. Long day of, you know, sailing and stuff." 

"The sun's just now going down." 

You tried to brush passed him, shoving the coat into his arms. He ignored it, letting it fall to the floor and caught you around the waist with one arm, spinning you to him. 

"Tell me what's wrong, love. Anything I can do to help? If this is because of my recent change in behavior, I assure you, I've come to terms with a few things about myself." He sounded concerned, his beautiful eyes searching yours. 

His face was so close to yours, you could just feel the heat coming off of him. 

You gulped. 

He let go of you, frowning at something he'd found in your eyes. 

"Are you frightened of me?" His voice was strained. 

You raced to voice the word _no_ but stopped yourself. Were you? Everything in your head screamed _yes_ \- but not for the reasons he would think. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. You felt like you were underwater, drowning, and he was the only life raft in sight. 

"Yes." 

You raised your lips to his, not knowing what to expect. You'd caught him off guard; he was frozen in place. Recovering, he started to protest, but you became more aggressive, pulling him into you by his shoulders, and yours mouths melded together in sweet rhythm. He smelled like the sea and tasted even sweeter. You melted into his chest, eyes closed, heart and mind racing. This was so much different than the first time. It was slow, and building. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing his hand up your back and encircling the nape of your neck. His lips were warm and soft, and they parted around yours, dragging you deeper and deeper into the kiss. 

Losing your balance, you stumbled forward, falling over him onto the bed. He broke off the kiss, looking up at you with wide eyes. 

"Belmont..." 

The setting sun cast a slight orange hue throughout the darkening cabin. You had your hands on Killian's chest, the neckline of his shirt slightly disheveled from the fall. Pulse still racing, you silenced him with another kiss, this one more passionate than the first. Not to be outmanuevered, Killian caught you by surprise, gripping the small of your back and flipping you onto the sheets. He now hovered over you, face inches from yours. His breathing was ragged, eyes burning with longing. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He whispered in your ear, sending pleasant shivers down the length of your body. You felt like you were charged with electricity, your fingers and toes tingled, and you exhaled. His lips were on your neck, slowly making their way down your clavicle and back up, caressing your jawline. He leaned back slightly. 

"Have you ever....?" 

You shook your head and looked away, slightly embarrassed. You could feel a delicate smile on Killians lips as he pressed them to your cheek. 

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do this, we can stop if-" 

"Oh shut _up_ ." 

You caught his lips in yours, effectively cutting him off, while removing the clasps from his belt and pulling his dark long sleeved shirt over his head. You were scared out of your mind, but you knew this was what you wanted. You felt Killian shudder and he buried his head into the crook of your neck. 

The feel of him was so unfamiliar. It was like looking at a well-known painting from a different angle for the first time and noticing an entirely new picture. 

You noticed he was being especially ginger with you; you could feel the restraint he was demonstrating and prayed he would give in. After a few minutes of dizzying kisses and gentle caressing, you felt him begin to pull back. 

"Why now? You wouldn't even touch me until today," you breathed, your eyes admiring the bare skin of his shoulders and chest. 

He trailed his thumb across your heated cheek and down to your shoulder. 

"You know why," he murmured, a hint of sadness carried in his words. "I made a fool of myself, I-" his words caught in his throat, "-I _hurt_ you". He ran his fingers over the thin white scar adorning the pale flesh of your neck. 

"But I forgave you." You shivered at his touch. 

He laughed sardonically. "I know, love. It's a matter of my pride. And just earlier...I thought I saw that same fear in your eyes as before." 

You looked away, almost feeling sorry for making him feel that way, although you know it wasn't your fault. 

"I just....I didn't know how to go about doing.... _this_ ," you blushed deeply. "I was afraid you didn't want me." 

Killian was silent for a moment, giving your words some time to sink in. 

"Didn't want you?" He said softly. "I have been _fighting_ every hour, every waking minute that I've been around you to avoid ending up right here, with you in my bed. I never want to push you to do anything you don't want to do, and I most certainly never want to inflict harm upon you again. And when I thought....." He sighed, taking a breath. "You could've been killed and I...I lost it. I couldn't bear the thought. Decided my best course was to continue on, denying myself what I wanted. Figured I'd be better off, good ol' selfish pirate that I am." 

One part of his heartfelt monologue stood out to you in particular, and you had just one question, though you already knew the answer. You drew a breath, heart jumping against your ribcage. 

"...And what is it that you wanted?" 

His eyes softened, and he took your hand, raising it to his lips. You awaited his next words with bated breath, and the silence seemed to scream in your ears. 

"It's you, Avery." 


	10. Almost

_"It's you, Avery."_

This revelation drove your heart into your throat, causing it to skip a beat.

Smee had been right. He _cared_ about you, in a way you never thought he would.

"Killian..." you breathed, entwining your fingers in his hair and pulling him down for a deep kiss. You felt him smile, and couldn't help but giggle and smile in return. He turned his attention to your blouse, unlacing the top with deft maneuverability for a one-handed man. Slowly, he planted kisses down your throat, to your clavicle, then to your chest. Involuntarily, you arched your back, a sigh of delight escaping your lips. He shuddered, and you felt a twinge of pride at being able to elicit such a reaction from him.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door, diverting both of your attentions' elsewhere, if only for a moment.

"Occupied, mate!" Killian called. "Try again, later!"

You giggled as he brought his lips back to you eagerly.

_BAM. BAM. BAM._

Heavy knuckles rapped against the door again, and Killian sighed. "I'll be right back, love. This'll only take a minute."

You groaned, sticking out your bottom lip in a pout.

"But what's next...I can promise will last longer." He winked at you, slipping his shirt on over his head and disappearing through the doorway.

You flopped back, reveling in the moment, and trying to mentally prepare yourself for his return. Your heart was still pounding, and you felt lighter than air, like you were floating just above the sheets. You couldn't help but grin at the ceiling. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

A few minutes passed, and he hadn't come back. You figured he must be talking to Smee about something. Fifteen, twenty minutes minutes went by, and you started to become anxious. You sidled to the edge of the bed, pulling a nightgown over your shoulders. The bare floor was cold against your feet, and you tiptoed to the door, peering your head out to glance around the empty deck.

You stepped outside. "Killian?" You called softly. There was no one around. He must have gone below deck, you thought. Clutching the thin fabric to your shoulders, you clambered down the hatch, looking for anyone.

"Smee?" You said loudly.

"Miss Belmont?" A voice replied as a figure rounded the corner of the cargo hold.

You shielded the front of your body, suddenly remembering your disheveled blouse.

"Have you seen Killian? He just answered the door and now I can't find him anywhere," you said, worry starting to creep into your voice.

He frowned. "I can't say I have, not since much earlier."

"You didn't knock on the door to his cabin twenty minutes ago?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I've been down here for the last few hours."

"Where could he have gone? We're in the middle of the ocean."

"I'm sure he'll turn up miss, but I'll keep an eye out."

"Thanks, Smee."

He wouldn't just leave, would he? No, that wasn't it. 

You continued searching through the cabins, lastly arriving at your own. You walked through the door, and stopped dead in your tracks.

The bed was overturned, your wardrobe had fallen over, spilling clothes all across the floor.

"What the hell..." You murmured. Spinning around, you ran back to the cargo hold.

"Smee!" You yelled, tripping over your bare feet and stumbling into the stocky pirate. He look at you in alarm.

"Was there someone in my cabin?" You exhaled, breathlessly.

"Not to my knowledge. Did something happen?"

You showed him. By now, most of the crew had awoken and no one had seen the Captain. You raced up to the deck, clutching the rail and scouring the obsidian ocean. The moon was waning, and it was a particularly cloudy night, not allowing for much visibility.

Something didn't feel right. Who was in your cabin, and why had it been torn apart? What did Killian have to do with it?

These questions and more poured through your mind as you gazed across an endless plane of black, the water matching the hue of the night sky.

The wind was still, offering you no answers.

_Killian.....where did you go?_


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm looking for a man."

Leaning across the wooden bar top, you gestured for the bartender to pour you another drink. Lifting your glass and nodding, you palmed a few gold coins in his direction. He pocketed the coins, returning to drying mugs and motioning for you to continue.

A husky, slurred voice rose amidst the jumbled cacophony of the tavern, bringing with it the reek of alcohol and sour smoke.

"Ah bet you are, li'l lady! Might be inclined to help you with that." 

The large man stumbled into a table, before lurching over a chair and sending his drink careening out of his hand. With a swift motion, your fingers closed around the wooden handle mid air, and you calmly placed the mug safely on the tabletop. Howling with laughter, the beet-red man sloppily mounted the stool next to you, shoving the previous occupant face first into the ground. The man slapped his hand on the bar top, jowls shaking with every strained gasp.

"Luck'ly for you, ahm lookin' for a lady," he winked. "Yur a mite nimble there, lass," he nodded to his mug, before grabbing it in a meaty palm and downing the rest of its contents.

Tilting your head, you shrugged at the bartender, sliding another coin in his direction and holding up a finger. You turned to the hulking, bald man to your right, noting his red watery eyes, and slack jawed grin. You were pretty sure this man couldn't tell you anything even if he wanted to, but you decided to engage anyway, if at the very least to turn him away. You didn't want to make a scene, and ignoring this beast of man would certainly erupt in a drunken rage fit.

Flashing a smile, you turned your shoulders towards him. "I think you misunderstood," you said sweetly.

"My husband has been missing for a few days, I figured he might be passed out around here somewhere." You gnawed your bottom lip slightly, looking up through sad eyes. "His kids need him, and I'm just so worried about what we're going to do if he's run off," you cried dramatically. Moving closer to the man, you placed your hand gently against his fat knee, feigning your best damsel in distress act. 

A golden medallion resting against the hairy chest was visible through his bedraggled shirt. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Regaining your train of thought, you continued.

"Are you here often?"

He nodded spasmodically, chins jiggling against one another.

"Please, can you help me find my husband?"

He looked around, lifting a hand. "Look, lady, I-"

"I would be _ever_ so grateful to anybody that could help me find my husband." Your fingers kneaded his leg, and the fat man licked his lips, sending a twinge of revolt down your spine, your forced smile never wavering.

"Al-alright, you lovely little creature."

"Oh good!" You clapped your hands together. "He's about yea tall-" you raised your hand in the air, "-with really great dark hair and blue eyes." The man coughed, shifting uncomfortably.

"Don' usually come here to gander at the more rugged folk, lass."

You pursed your lips. "Hm. Usually wears a red or black vest? He loves the color black."

The man blinked rapidly, pounding the table for the bartender to pour him another.

"Sorry, girl. Not ringin' any bells."

You leaned forward on your stool, looking him in the face with a faint smile.

"Long flappy coat? No? Hm." Slowly getting to your feet, you brought your lips to his ear, listening to the man's raspy breathing and smacking lips.

"Oh, did I mention- one of most defining features, though I tend to forget some times, silly me- he only has one hand."

Letting your words sink in, you heard the man withdraw a breath, watched his eyes widen. 

"Sonova- you're Hooks' bitch-" 

_CRASH!_

You brought your glass hard against the man's temple, sending him face first into the ground, knocking him out cold. The tavern hushed and all eyes seemed to be on you.

After a pause, you said flatly, "Man can't hold his liquor." You shrugged.

The entire tavern erupted into a loud roar of laughter, and the usual clanging of glasses and inebriated slurs continued, forgetting your discretion.

You looked to the still form by your feet in disgust. You were right. Killian had been here. This man knew something. That coin around his neck was no ordinary trinket- it was a pirates' medallion.

You waved to the bartender, tossing him a small sack of gold and pressing your finger to you lips with a wink. Bending down to retrieve the necklace, you spun on your heel, heading towards the open door, when two shadowy figures blocked your path.

"Excuse me gentlemen, I must be going." You flashed a quick smile, eager to leave. Expressionless, the figure on the right- a tall, thickly muscled man with an open vest, revealing a heavily tattooed chest- grabbed your arm. Instinctively, you twisted your wrist around his, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward while simultaneously sweeping your leg behind his knee, using his momentum to swing him into his partner.

Together, they crashed to the floor in a heap of limbs, scrambling to right themselves. Brushing yourself off, you chuckled, taking pride in how far you'd come. You threw your hands up, provoking them.

"Only two of you? What's the matter, afraid of a fair fight?" You smiled, blood pumping through your veins. You felt a deliberate tap on your shoulder. Not taking your eyes off of your previous attackers, you chirped, "Get in line, pal. I'll take you on in a minute."

_"Belmont."_


	12. An Unfortunate Acquaintance

_"Belmont."_

You froze, lowering your hands. You knew that voice. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes meeting with a gruesome sight.

Killian was on his knees, a thick chain clamped around his neck. He was missing his iconic coat, his vest was in tatters, caked blood trailing down his face and chest. One eye was swollen shut, covered by unkempt, untamed hair. His hook had been removed. Your heart caught in your throat.

Tearing your eyes away for a second, you scanned the room. The noise had ceased, all eyes were trained on you and the man that had commanded your attention. He was tall and dark, a bushy midnight beard hanging from his leathery face. A long dark coat flared out behind him, dotted in brass buttons. Piercing eyes cut through you, and you realized that this was one of his taverns. The insignia on the medallion; Blackbeard's crew.

Upon closer inspection, you realized that he had been tapping on your shoulder with a bloody silver hook.

Acknowledging the terrifying captain with a slight nod and keeping your expression steady, you turned back to Killian, who was staring at you through his one good eye.

"Killian." You gestured at his current situation. "You've looked worse."

A painful smile spread across his bruised face.

"Aye, that I 'ave." His voice was weak and broken, and it sent a twinge of pain and rage through your body. Trying to remain calm, you clenched and unclenched your fists rhythmically, assessing the situation. Keeping the mood as light as you could, you tapped your toe against the wooden planks of the tavern.

"So, this is where you've been for the last eight weeks, captain? The Jolly Roger sure misses you." Your voice strained, and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. "I'm not entirely sure Smee knows what he's doing."

Killian dropped his head, resigned.

"It's good to see you, Avery." Raising his eyes to yours, he offered a small broken smile.

"Yeah." You pushed passed the rage, straining to keep your wits about you. "It's good to see you too."

Your turned on your heel to face Blackbeard. You two had never personally met, but you'd heard much about him. Hopefully, you could use this to your advantage.

"So-" you inhaled, mustering up courage; it was difficult to see a way out of this, "-to whom do I owe this pleasure?"

The infamous captain chuckled and twirled the blood-encrusted hook in his large hands, his ring-clad fingers rhythmically tapping against steel. 

"Don't play coy with me, lass." His voiced bellowed from his lungs in a rich, deep bass.

Feigning regret, you spread your arms, fingers raising the edges of your coat from the floor, and held your deepest curtsy. 

"My apologies, Captain." You bowed your head, glancing up at him through sharp eyes, a forced smile plastered on your face.

A dark humor brewed in his sunken eyes as he looked you over. 

"I see why Hook has taken such a liking to you," he grunted. "You've got guts." Patting the cutlass sheathed against his leg, he added,

"Hopefully, he'll like you without them as well."

You pursed your lips, tilting your head, contemplating. "Clever. You truly have a masterful way with words." You weren't sure what had come over you. Yes, you were afraid, that much was evident. All you knew was that you had to put on a brave face for Killian. You had to get the two of you out of this mess.

"So how does this work? We strike a deal, I hand you some gold, and you let me collect my compatriot here, we share a few drinks and go our separate ways?" Taking deliberate steps towards Blackbeard, you shrugged, gesturing towards your Captain's broken body.

"Honestly, he looks a bit worse for wear there, boys. Let me take him off your hands."

"Alright, girl," Blackbeard spat. "You've had your fun." He placed his hands behind his back and turned towards Killian, yanking the chain that dug into his neck and causing him to grimace.

"I think you know what this is about. You see, a few months ago you and your dashing rogue here-" he patted Killian on the head, ruffling his overgrown hair "-decided to liberate some of my ships of their cargo, and sent a few of them down to the locker. Now, I figured the usual punishment for such thievery is the removal of said thieves' hand. But, oh-" he snatched Hooks' left arm, admiring the stump, before tossing him aside, throwing him to the ground with a sickening _thud._

Your hand twitched for the cutlass hanging by your side, but you resisted; starting a fight now would surely end in both of your deaths.

"Pray tell," you hissed through gritted teeth. "Get on with what it is you want. _Mate._ "

"Hmph." Blackbeard began circling Killian slowly, still toying with the hook in his hand. "Very rarely do I keep prisoners alive for so long. But when I heard that _Captain Hook_ had finally fallen in with another woman, well, I just had to see it for myself. Younger than Milah, a unique kind of beauty, and-" he smiled cruelly "-a _pirate_."

Stopping behind Killian, he knelt down and spoke harshly in his ear, gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at you.

"Look, mate. We found her. I told you we would."

Killian lowered his eyes and spoke in a flat voice. "You're dealings are with me, Blackbeard. Leave the girl out of this." Blackbeard chuckled, releasing his hold on Killian.

He stood, nodding to a stocky pirate with facial piercings who proceeded to draw his sword and place it against Killian's throat.

"No!" You lurched forward, but the tattooed pirate you had taken on earlier grabbed you from behind, wrestling you into submission despite your struggles.

"Killian!"

Blackbeard's wretched laugh boomed throughout the room. "There we are! Some _emotion_. That was some facade you had going there for a bit, lass. I'll tell you what. Butchering your boyfriend here in front of you like this...." he mocked a sigh, "...would bring me no pleasure. So I'll give him a fair chance."

You fought against the tattooed pirates' hold, but nothing you did could loosen his grip. Breathing heavily, you watched in terror as Blackbeard tossed aside the hook, out of Killian's reach, and drew a cutlass from the nearest pirate's belt. He motioned for the pirate to release Killians' chains, then sauntered over to his sunken form. He threw the cutlass down at Killian's knees.

"Go ahead, _Captain_. Pick it up."

Dazed, Killian turned his head upward, blankly staring at Blackbeard's sneering face, before resting his gaze on you.

You wrenched your body, twisting and clawing at the pirate's arms, but to no avail. You were helpless.

"Killian, please! Remember what you told me! You're a survivor," you pleaded with him.

Unsheathing his own sword, Blackbeard pointed it at Killian. "Get up, boy. Show some spine. Is this how you want her to remember you? For the short amount of time she'll be without you, that is."

You watched Killian clench his jaw, and slowly outstretched his quaking fingers to wrap around the hilt of the unfamiliar sword. Gingerly, he propped himself up on one knee, until he found the strength to stand, wavering ever so slightly. With a satisfied snicker, Blackbeard sheathed his weapon and nodded at the pirate with the cutlass to Hooks' throat. He took a step back, lowering the blade.

"Face your fate with dignity, mate. Judgment awaits us all on the other side." He nodded and took a step back, allowing room for the two to duel. The patrons formed a ring around your dear captain and his assailant, allowing plenty of room for you to watch the fight.

"Killian," you whispered, terror flooding your body. You had just found him. After two long months you had finally found him....

The pirate lunged at Killian, the clang of steel on steel jarring you back to reality. Killian was putting up a good defense, despite his injuries, but there was no way he could keep it up. It was obvious. The stocky pirate attacked with a downward blow, which Killian deflected with his blade, and sent a kick into the attackers' abdomen. He gasped, stumbling back, and a glimmer of hope crept into your mind.

Regaining his footing, the pirate lurched forward, feigning to Hooks' weak side. Killian wasn't fast enough with only one hand; the pirate jabbed his sword at his wrist, sending the cutlass clattering to the ground at the edge of the ring. Frantic, Killian looked up in time for the pirate to smash him in the face with the hilt. Killian crashed to the ground, the pirate raising his sword for the final blow.

"No!" With a burst of energy, you brought your heel up behind as fast and as hard as you could, catching the tattooed pirate right in between his legs and causing him to double over in pain, temporarily relaxing his grip on you. You darted from underneath his arms, dodging his lunge and sprinted towards Killian.

A loud whistle reverberated throughout the tavern, silencing everything but your frantic cries and boots pounding the floorboards.

Blackbeard held up his hand, motioning for his pirate to lower his weapon, and back away. You skidded to your knees alongside Killian, hoisting him up and taking his head into your hands, whispering softly to him.

"Killian, hey. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

His eyes fluttered open, taking in your face and exhaling deeply.

"Belmont...what are you doing here?" he groaned, a new wound opening up above his good eye. Ripping a shred of cloth from your blouse, you dabbed at it before it ran down into his eyes.

"What do you think? I was looking for you." You sighed. "You stupid, silly, _beautiful_ pirate..."

You cradled his head to your chest.

"I should be captured and mortally wounded more often, if it warrants this kind of attention from you," he winced, coughing up blood. Tears threatening to fall, you choked back a laugh, trying to keep up a smile. You trailed your fingers along the side of his face, tucking a lock of dark hair behind his ear.

"You've really let yourself go, Jones."

Painfully aware of your audience, you came to terms with the fact that this moment couldn't last forever, no matter how much you may want it to. You took one last longing gaze into your pirate's eyes. Once bright and vibrant with a thirst for adventure, they were now dull and bloodshot, resembling the dark grey sky during a storm.

You felt your fear ebbing away, accepting your clearly imminent fate. You had found your captain, and you weren't leaving here without him. Your body began to feel light, and your heart was beating steadily. Gently pressing your lips to Killian's forehead, you felt him shudder. Giving him a brave smile, you whispered to him, holding his face in your hands.

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Captain." He held your gaze, confused, as you let him go, straightening yourself and taking a deep breath before giving him an encouraging smile.

Your turned to face Blackbeard. "Captain," you began, a renewed strength to your voice. "I have a proposition for you."

His cracked lips hinted at a sour smile and he waved a jewel encrusted hand at you. 

"You've got nothin' to offer me, little lady. And frankly, I've become rather bored of your display." 

"I challenge you to a duel."


	13. Journey's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello again! I hope you're still entertained. It's worth noting that I wrote this chapter before the show explored Black Beard and Killian's relationship and passed dealings, before we kind of found out that..Black Beard really isn't that scary. So here's some fearsome Black Beard for ya :)_
> 
> _********************************************************************************_

"Avery, no..." Killian's ragged whisper echoed from behind you, but you stayed face forward, staring Blackbeard straight in the eye, not daring to break your gaze.

Amusement flickered across the captains sun-baked face. After brief consideration, he let out a barking laugh. 

"Alright, I'll humor you. Your terms, Miss Belmont."

"I win, you return Killian to the Jolly Roger and let him and his crew go free. No further harm is to come to any of them. In return, I can promise that no future attempts on your ships or your life will be committed, no acts brought of ill-will against you, carried out."

"And should you lose?"

You sucked in a breath. 

"My life for Hook's. Return him to his ship, same as the previous terms. You can kill me, do with me as you please. Just...let him go."

"Ha! You hear that, men? Little lass acts as if she commands me. You've got gumption, girl, but I've been wielding a blade since before your great grandmummy first spread her legs," he sneered. "Why would I play your little game when I could easily tear you two apart this very moment?"

"Feared as you may be, I can't deny that you are a great captain who commands the loyalty of his crew. I believe you are a man of your word, and trust that you will honor my terms. Should you choose to accept them," you added, silencing Killian's strained protests with a hard look cast over your shoulder.

"Also," you said slowly, "you haven't killed us yet. Curious, but it hasn't gone unnoticed."

Blackbeard took two hulking steps towards you, boots echoing throughout the silent room.

"I accept," he spat, dark eyes burning into you. "You've caused quite a scene, young lady." Before turning his back to you, he whispered menacingly, "I'm rather going to enjoy running you through with my sword. If for no other reason than to make an example out of you." He cleared his throat.

"Tomorrow morning, first light. I'd prefer to spill your blood aboard the deck of my ship. It could use a new coat of paint." With a whoosh of his coat, he brushed by you, stooping to where Killian lay on the ground, blood still oozing from his wounds.

"Enjoy your last night, coward. You've been a thorn in my side for far too long. After you watch your girl die, feel the pain of losing yet another friend to your weakness, then I'll show you the mercy of my blade." Lumbering towards the back door, he barked swift orders to his crew.

"Give 'em a room, Barlow. Make sure neither of them leave. Let them spend their last night on this earth huddled in each others arms." He whisked around, door slamming shut and rocking the walls.

Violently, you were hoisted up by your waist and thrown over the broad shoulders of one of Blackbeard's crew, Barlow presumably, until you were tossed into one of the tavern's rooms, hearing the heavy click of a key turning in the lock behind you.

Scrambling to your feet, you noticed Killian's emaciated form lying a few feet from you. Wrapping your arms under his shoulders, you dragged him across the rough floorboards and hoisted him onto the threadbare sheets of the small bed.

"Killian," you urged, gently rocking him. He was unconscious. Making your way across the room, you rapped your knuckles on the inside of the door.

"Hey, whichever one of Blackbeard's goons is out there, get me some food and water. There's coin in it for ya." You pressed your ear to the door, hesitantly waiting for any sign that your request had been heard.

A few minutes went by, until a bang on the door sent you fumbling for the doorknob.

"It's locked from the outside, you cretin," you bristled, rubbing your temple and shaking your head.

Managing to get the door open, the towering figure tossed a brown leather flagon and a sack of dried cured meats in the center of the room. Holding out a colossal hand, he grunted. Fetching a few gold coins jangling loosely in your coat pocket, you dropped them one by one into his palm. Hanging on to the last two, you raised your brow.

"I'd like a blanket, too. A nice one." You flaunted the shiny coins in front of his vacuous eyes, until he huffed, wordlessly slamming the door behind him. 

"A pleasure conversing with you, Barlow," you called after him.

Shortly later, you were tending to a fur-covered Killian, propping his head up and forcing water passed his cracked lips. Sputtering, he came to, cursing as he tried to sit up on his own, temporarily forgetting his injuries.

He gulped from the flagon, wiping his mouth with his right wrist and taking a few shallow breaths. "Belmont," he panted between swigs. "What did you do?"

"Shhh, it's okay. Get some rest. You've lost a lot of blood, and I assume they haven't been giving you three square meals a day." You offered him a piece of salted jerky, and he turned his head.

"Killian, please, you're being childish. Just take the food." You snatched the water from him, jamming the jerky into his palm. "At least try to recover some of your strength."

"What's the point? I fear we're at our journey's end, love. Why did you have to come looking for me?" He winced, finishing off the jerky in one bite.

"I saved your sorry ass!"

"You offered up your own life, for mine, a bargain that Blackbeard will not honor," he seethed.

"I bought us some _time_ , Killian."

"You couldn't have just let me go."

You looked at him incredulously. "Look at you! You're more than half-dead, you've lost all hope! You're not even trying. The Hook I know would never have just resigned himself to this fate."

Your sudden outburst of anger caught you by surprise, and you took a moment to adjust yourself.

You reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his.

"Have faith in me, Jones." Your eyes locked onto his. "I may not be able to best Blackbeard in sword to sword combat, but I can outmaneuver him. But I need you to be sharp. This won't work if I have to worry about you every moment."

He eyed you suspiciously. "What won't work? You have a plan?" His voice was flat, doubtful.

You sighed, collapsing on the bed, being careful not to jar him too abruptly. 

"Not exactly. I have a plan to have a plan," you admitted. "Still working on the details."

You rested your head against his chest, counting his breaths and matching yours. Exhaling in unison, you both stared wordlessly at the ceiling. Shifting towards you, he raised your intertwined fingers to his lips, planting a gentle kiss across your knuckles.

"Avery, I...."

"I know," you interjected, heart skipping a beat. "I'm quite fond of you as well, Captain."

He let out a sigh, and you leaned over to the bedside table, snuffing out the candle and casting the two of you into utter blackness.


	14. Not Alone

You woke to the incessant prodding of a finger in your ribs.

"Whaa-?" You mumbled, lurching to a sitting position on the lumpy mattress. It took you a minute to gather your bearings. Your sleepy eyes scanned the room, which was illuminated by the faint glow of milky moonlight pouring in through the rickety slats of the window. Your eyes fell on Killian, sitting beside you, one eye still swollen shut. 

You snapped back into the present, leaping to your feet.

"I fell _asleep_?!" You exclaimed, incredulous. He raised a quizzical brow, wincing at the pain that simple task brought with it.

"Aye, love. Figured one of us needed some beauty rest."

You snorted. "You could use _all_ the beauty rest."

He cracked a smile. You sat down beside him, elbows resting on your knees, your face in your hands. "How're we going to get ourselves out of this one?" You sighed, to no one in particular.

You must've dozed off earlier thinking of escape routes. You couldn't leave through the window; Blackbeard's cronies were circled outside near the street below, you'd checked. Taking the offensive and fighting your way through wasn't an option. There were too many of them, and Killian was in no shape to fight. Bribing the crew may have worked for some measly scraps of food and a blanket, but there was no way even the simplest of pirates would dare defy Blackbeard in such a situation. It seemed the only path was to duel the infamous pirate captain, which meant your only freedom was most surely death.

You scolded yourself for having such a thought.

_You survive_ , you told yourself. _If there's one thing you're good at doing, it's surviving._

Gently breaking from your thoughts, you felt a warm hand slip over yours.

"It's okay, love. You're not alone. You'll never be alone again."

Suddenly, your eyes flew open, and you straightened up.

_Of course!_ You smacked yourself upside the head with the flat of your palm.

_You weren't alone. Neither of you were._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only been a few hours since Miss Bel- _Captain_ Belmont had gone out, but Smee had started to worry. She'd always been back before the moon reached it's peak in the night sky, even just to let the crew know she'd be out later. Tonight was different. Usually, all of the men would be scattered about the many taverns and pubs, drunken and disorderly, but not tonight. The stand-in Captain had ordered all hands to remain on deck; she was getting close, and she knew it.

"But Miss, uh- Captain," Smee had protested after she'd insisted on going out alone.

"Mr.Smee, there's no time to argue. I doubt Killian left willingly. I need you all here in case I find something," she'd said. "It'll be easier for me to go unnoticed if I'm by myself. I promise I'll come get you if I find _anything_." She'd reassured him with a pat on his shoulder. 

"If I don't check in by midnight, you have my permission to come looking, but I _need_ this vessel ready to sail the moment we step aboard. There's no telling what Killian's gotten himself into." Smee had nodded and looked on as the Captain glanced around the deck with sad eyes. "The Jolly Roger needs her rightful captain, Smee. I'm going to bring him back." 

With that, the Captain had whisked herself down to the docks and disappeared into the bustle of the seaside hub.

 

The moon was on it's way down, and the crew was becoming restless. Smee wrought his hands together nervously. He'd never been one to take the initiative, unless it was for the sake of his own hide, but he liked Avery. She was kind, and she made the Captain better, he thought. It was also one of the reasons she had been appointed Captain instead of him, even though he was the first mate. Smee thought it was for the best.

"A-alright, men," he started. "Captain's orders. We're to send out a small search party, while the rest of the crew stays behind and makes sure this vessel is ready for sail."

Quickly, the crew split themselves into three groups: two search parties consisting of two men each, minus Smee; the rest were to stay aboard. Smee joined one of the parties and off they went, into the darkened streets of the port town of Almaris to search for their missing Captains. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	15. Sorry, Love.

"Smee!" You exclaimed and, much to Killian's discomfort, grabbed his arm, shaking it vigorously.

"Sorry, am I missing something?" Killian winced and inched away from your grasp. "Last I checked, it was only the two of us and a very large number of pirates who want us dead, none of my crew being among them." 

You stared at his sullen face, fighting the urge to smile. You didn't want to get your hopes up, not yet. 

"Silly Jones," you toyed, wagging a finger at him. "Did you really think I'd set off on a rescue mission alone?" 

You watched as he knit his brows together. How had you forgotten about your crew? Smee _must_ be worried by now. You'd never been late checking in.

You scrambled to the window, drawing back the wooden slats and peering out at the nearly-full moon. Thick storm clouds marred the sky, but the silver silhouette was still clearly visible, a halo of soft light in the murky dark. Its position told you it was well past midnight, with only a few hours until daybreak. You concentrated on your location. Not far from the Jolly Roger, this had been the third run-down boozehole you'd made your way into looking for Killian. Depending on which way the crew went and what time they began searching, you figured they could be here very soon, or you'd already missed them. Still peeking out the window, you scanned the blackened landscape. There were a few stragglers on the streets, no one you recognized. Directly beneath the window came the obnoxious sounds of drunken laughter and wheezing. Blackbeard's crew, you presumed.

"So..what, then? Smee knows where we are?" 

You pursed your lips. "Not exactly. I never made it back to the Jolly Roger, so he should be out looking for me." 

Killian sighed. "Look, love. Mr. Smee is a fine sailor and all, but he's not the brightest of the-"

"Captain?"

The familiar voice was dull, but it yanked your attention out the window, to the lantern-lit cobblestone below where a splash of crimson red drew your eyes.

"Oh William, thank goodness," you breathed, drawing a finger to your lips to silence him. 

Killian wrinkled his nose. "Who's William?" 

You threw a sharp look at him.

"Smee."

"Ah. Forgot he had a first name. Well done, William!" He flashed a forced smile. 

You laughed dryly and turned you attention back outside. Accompanying your favorite stocky pirate were two larger shapes you couldn't quite distinguish in the dim light.

Motioning to the pavement below, you mouthed the word _"Blackbeard"_ , until a frightened expression darkened Smee's face and he nodded in understanding. Carefully, he snuck though the unkempt topiaries below the window, getting as close as he could manage without arousing suspicion from the pirates just inside the tavern.

"I found him, Smee. Killian's here," you whispered down into the dark. 

"He didn't happen to bring any rum, did he?" Killian called from across the room.

Ignoring him, you wracked your brain for ideas. "He's badly injured. He won't be very useful in a fight."

"Oi!" Killian winced.

"Your men, they can carry him out. I'll supply a distraction. I have a better chance of escaping on my own than he does."

"I'm sorry, that's your plan?" Killian interjected, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving you here, love. I'm many things, but a coward is not one of them."

"Shut up, Jones. You've been imprisoned for two months, your word is forfeit. If anyone deserves to get out of here, it's you." You pried off the wooden slats of the window, creating a gap wide enough for Killian to fit through.

"My only question is are you going to go willingly?" You asked, pointing towards the window.

"How about you go, and I supply the distraction?"

"Because that completely defeats the purpose of me finding you in the first place!" You shouted, exasperated. "Killian, I swear, you are so _frustrating_ at times. Just do what I tell you, this once," you whispered.

You froze as a slow knock echoed from outside the door. 

"Ev'rything okay in there?" A deep voice bellowed.

"Yes, Barlow, everything is just _peachy_ ," you snapped. "Now leave us alone so we can suffer in peace, you big galumphing moron."

The only response was loud thumping footsteps distancing themselves from the room.

"Well now, that wasn't very nice. What has he ever done to you?"

You stared at Killian until you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull. Rubbing your temples, you retreated to the window, whispering to Smee. "Get ready. Take Killian and run as fast as you can back to the Jolly Roger. I'll hold them off. Set sail without me, if necessary. That's an _order_."

Smee nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He beckoned the two larger pirates to come closer, bracing themselves. You gave them a thumbs up and withdrew your head from the window.

"What did you say? Belmont?"

You approached Killian, taking a seat next to him and taking his face gingerly in your hands.

"We're getting out of here okay? Both of us. I'll be right behind you," you whispered, gazing into his good eye. Carefully, you placed your lips on his, and dropped your hands, pulling him up from the bed and over to the window.

"You first?" You gestured, and he leaned his head out the window.

"I'm not sure this is a great idea, Avery. If they see me leave, they'll be crashing through that door in a matter of seconds-" _THWACK!_

You brought the candlestick you had taken off the dresser out from behind your back in a vicious arc, landing a solid blow to the base of Killian's skull, immediately rendering him unconscious. You caught him as he fell forward, trying to control his descent out of the window. His limp form fell, and you watched with bated breath as the shadowy figures below caught him before he hit the ground, and started off at full sprint in the direction of the Jolly Roger.

"Sorry love," you whispered.

Taking measured breaths, you gave them twenty seconds, until they were out of sight, when you realized that no one was in pursuit of their fleeing forms. Praying to the gods for their safe return, you stabilized yourself, lifting your leg onto the window frame. Suddenly, a horrific tearing sound screeched from behind you as the door was ripped off its hinges. Alarmed, you glanced behind you, greeted by the hulking stature of none other than Barlow.

You smiled. _I can outrun this goon._

With a small wave, you leapt from the window, bracing yourself for the impact of pavement fifteen feet below. 

It never came. 

Instead, a shrieking sound tore itself from your lungs as you felt a searing pain shoot through your scalp. A massive hand had followed you out the window, grasping at whatever it could find: a fistful of long blonde hair. You struggled to free yourself, cursing when you realized you didn't have so much as a knife to help you out of this situation. You tore at your hair, begging for it to break and release you. Your head was pounding, animalistic screams no doubt alerting the rest of the pirates of your failed escape attempt.

"Let me go!" You shrieked, clawing at the monstrous hand holding you hostage.

"Find the other one, he couldn't have gotten far," you heard a deep voice call out from below. 

Your blood ran cold. 

_Shit. No._


	16. Bye-bye, Blackbeard

"What's the matter, _girl_?" The wretched voice split through the pain dulling your senses, and echoed inside your head. 

"You've no weapon, and it seems your beloved has abandoned you. But fret not, I'm sure we'll have his pretty little head back under my sword eventually, whether it takes minutes or years. If there's one thing I have, little lady, it's time. And also an enormous capacity for personal grudges." 

With a lumbering step forward, he pinned your left wrist under the crushing weight of his boot, grinding it into the stone below. A surprised scream wrenched itself from your body as you felt bone separate from bone and tendons snap, causing your hand to spasm and fingers to curl involuntarily.

Blackbeard grunted to himself, flicking away the hair in front of your face with a swipe of his cutlass. 

"Somebody clap her in irons. I've grown tired of this. We'll find some other use for her." 

He stepped back as a ragged pirate roughly clasped your wrists together, taking special care not to be gentle, and slapped a solid pair of iron shackles around them. The greasy pirate stretched his thin lips into a wide smile, yellow and brown teeth reflecting the dim lantern light in a ghoulish grin. 

Blackbeard's jeweled fingers gripped your chin, jerking your face upwards from your position on the ground. "Verrick seems to like you," he growled menacingly, gesturing to the pirate that had cuffed you. "Perhaps you'll spend the night with the crew." 

The crew snickered and guffawed, sinister catcalls and remarks assaulted your ears from all sides and you felt your insides roil in a rage. Blood started pumping faster through your veins and, slowly, the pain began to dissipate. A wetness trickled down your forehead, dripping into your eye, but you blinked it away.

Clutching your good hand into a fist around your limp one, you brought them sideways against Blackbeard's knee with all the strength you could muster. You felt the satisfying _crunch_ as his joint buckled, sending him kneeling to the ground. The crew grew silent in response, and you wasted no time.

_If you're going to go, go NOW._

Jumping to your feet, you moved like a lightening bolt through the stunned pirates, focusing most of your weight on your good ankle and praying you could make it to relative safety before the adrenaline shooting through your veins faded. 

You sprinted in the direction of the Jolly Roger, knowing that they should've left by now, but hoping they were still close enough. Your breaths tore from your body in ragged gasps, leaving your throat feeling like sandpaper.

The marina came into view, and you looked for the slip where the Jolly Roger had been docked. It was empty.

_Thank the gods,_ you thought. Killian must still be unconscious; he never would've left without you. At least you could count on Smee to follow orders.

You rounded the corner, jumping through some bushes between a closed market stand and the stone wall of the seaside tavern, boots clopping onto the docks, only to see the telltale yellow stripes of the Jolly Roger, still in the marina. They had shoved off, but the still air wasn't moving them anywhere. Silently cursing, you saw Smee's iconic cap aboard the deck, scanning the port.

"Smee!" You screamed across the water. "Raise the main sail, run out the sweeps, whatever you have to do to get that ship moving!" Never slowing down, you glanced behind you. A hoard of dirty, angry men stampeded close behind you, cutlasses raised. 

You dodged a stray cat, jumping over coils of rope strewn across the docks, making a beeline for the water. The ship was only a few yards out. A flash of white caught your eye, and you saw the crew raising every sail on the ship, praying for a lick of wind. 

Legs pumping and lungs on fire, you made the last few feet of land count, picking up as much speed as you could. You pushed off the last board of the dock, arms outstretched, shackles jangling, head tucked between your shoulders as you broke the surface of the calm water. Feeling yourself losing momentum, and the chill of the dark water begin to seep into your skin, you began kicking your legs, wincing as your left foot flopped uselessly from your ankle. Your strokes were frantic, until you found a rhythm. 

You held your breath for as long as you could before coming up for air, and scanned the surface. The Jolly Roger was ten yards from you now, and the crew had a line waiting in the water. You closed the gap quickly; your swimming lessons with Killian had paid off. 

Fumbling for the line, you grasped it with your right hand, knotting it around your cuffs for extra support since your left hand lay limp in its iron prison. 

The crew hauled you out of the water in a matter of seconds, the sudden breeze whipping your hair around your face. You collapsed on the deck, feeling the ship pick up speed beneath you.

"Miss, uh Cap- uh Lady Belmont!" Smee called franticly, throwing a blanket over your shoulders and taking in your wounds.

"Just Belmont, or Avery now, Smee," you rasped, coughing up seawater traced with blood. "Put as much distance between us and this bloody port. There's a good chance they'll follow us."

You looked up to Smee. "Is Killian...?"

"Everybody made it back to the ship just fine, Miss Belmont. The Captain is still..resting...in his chambers."

You sighed in relief. "Thank you, Smee. I honestly don't know what would've happened if we didn't have you." 

A flush of beet red colored the stocky pirate's round cheeks, and he nodded in thanks.

Rising unsteadily to your feet, you held out your cuffed hands to Smee and the crew. "Anybody know how to get these off?"

"Aye, I think I may have something."

The first mate disappeared below deck for a few minutes before returning with what seemed to be a crude hammer with a jagged metal head. 

You laid your wrists across the sturdy rail of the ship, drawing the chains taut. With a single mighty swing, Smee brought the hammer down, smashing the iron chains to smithereens. He got to work prying the pins out of the hinges of each wrist cuff, and eventually they clattered to the deck, leaving your skin welted red and bleeding from where they had chafed, but free. You tossed the remains into the sea, unmasked disgust on your face as you watched them plummet into the inky black.

Smee insisted that the ship's makeshift physician tend to your wounds before you did anything else, and you begrudgingly agreed. He wrapped your head after cleaning several rips in your scalp with a stinging liquid. He set your wrist and ankle with strips of cloth and excess wood splinters, explaining to you that if they don't heal properly, he'd have to re-break and reset the bones. With that, he sent you off with a bottle of rum, for the pain, and a smile. You thanked him, and made your way to Killian's cabin, hobbling all the way. 

You stopped at the door, bracing yourself for his anger, if he was awake. There was no way he was going to forgive you for knocking him out with a candlestick from behind. Not anytime soon, anyway.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.


	17. New Town Blues

"Okay, so I _know_ you're mad at me..." Your voice trailed off, falling upon deaf ears.

"But," you continued, not without a twinge of mock delight, "you can't do anything about it if you're unconscious. Which, by the way, I am extremely sorry about. But this also gives me a chance to tell you things, without fear of judgment or the like. And I have a lot I want to tell you. Consider this a practice run." You peered over your shoulder, assessing his face and his breathing, ensuring he was still sleeping. 

"You look so peaceful in your sleep," you murmured softly. "When you're awake....even when your smiling, there's something....dark in your face. Happiness rarely reaches your eyes. I've seen it a few times. It truly is a beautiful look on you, you should do it more often." You sucked in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. "I...I want to be the one that helps you with that. I know I've made you happy before, and I think I can do it. I just need you to be honest with me. The crew won't talk about it with me. Even Smee won't tell me anything. But it seems like they all know something that I don't. I'm a part of your crew; I've been aboard the Jolly Roger for a while now. I think I deserve it."

You'd heard whispers and quick comments about the Captain's quest for vengeance, but whenever you'd ask, your query was answered with a single word, and no explanation: Crocodile.

"I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready," you sighed. "In other topics, I...I really like you," you stammered. _Gods, this was difficult. Even though you're only talking to yourself_. You dabbed at his face with a wet towel, clearing the caked blood from his skin.

"I mean, obviously, since, you know..we almost....did things...last time we were in this room together." Your face flushed with heat, and you kneaded your palms together. "I get the sense that you like me as well, to some extent.....oh, this is such crap," you said as you buried your face in your hands. "I'm not good at this at all. And you're not even conscious!"

The moonlight laid across his face like ivory stripes, illuminating his still features. You crawled up beside him, slipping under the covers and facing him. "I don't think I should but....I love you, Killian," you whispered, barely audible, even to yourself. A weight seemed to lift from your chest, and warmth spread throughout your body, alleviating your aching head. Slowly, you swept Killian's unkempt locks from in front of his face, tucking them behind his ear.

"We'll give you a bit of a haircut tomorrow. Not too short though," you smiled to yourself. Your eyelids became heavy, and the passed few months began to catch up with you. Sliding your hand under your head, you felt the warmth of the bed pull you under and, for the first time in a long time, you had a decent night's sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning, love." A warm hand stroked your forehead and your eyes fluttered open. You found yourself inches from Killian's face, his breath tickling your cheek. You shrank back. 

"Oh, uh, sorry, I just came to check in on you last night and I guess after everything, I passed out, and-" he shushed you with a laugh and a finger to your lips. 

"Nonsense," he smiled. "This is exactly what I wanted to wake up to all those weeks ago, what I wished I could've been waking up to all this time. You look stunning, Belmont."

You scrambled to comb your fingers through your hair. If the last twenty-one years of owning a mirror had taught you anything, it was that you most certainly did _not_ look stunning in the mornings. _And that was without being bruised and bloodied_ , you cringed inwardly.

The swelling on Killian's eye had gone down significantly, but it still looked painful. 

Finding an excuse to leave the room, you offered to fetch him some water and bandages, scuttling out of the door before Killian could decline.

You passed Smee on your way to the lower decks. He was just finishing up securing some loose lines when he noticed you.

"Miss Belmont!" He scrambled over to you, nodding his head sheepishly. "How are your wounds recovering? Is there anything I can fetch for you? New bandages perhaps?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "I'm actually on my way to grab some new bandages for Killian. If I need to, I'll change my own, I promise. Thank you, Smee."

"Aye-aye, madam," he said, returning to his deckhand duties with a wave of his hand.

Descending into the belly of the ship, you meandered the short hallway, turning into a small room used for miscellaneous storage and food preparation. The Jolly Roger didn't really have a cook; any solid food was usually preserved meats and potatoes, alongside a limited selection of fruits and vegetables, depending on where the crew had made port last.

Spying the neon peel of an orange, you swiped it from its wooden crate, peeling it absentmindedly while shuffling through the clutter in search of clean bandages. A few minutes of scouring the cabin yielded a small box tucked away in the corner, marked 'Medical Supplies' and branded with the seal of the royal navy. You sighed, grabbing a few coiled bandages and gauze from the dusty box. _Pirates._

Another quick search, and you had acquired a jug of water.

Limping up the steps and raising the hatch, you clambered onto the deck, breathing deeply as a soft gust of wind brought with it the scent of dirt laced with cinnamon. Your eyes flitted over to the side of the ship; the crew member manning the helm in Killians' stead was bringing the Jolly Roger in to dock by a small earth-toned town. Dots of white scattered themselves just outside the port, and you recognized them as the tarps of vendor stalls. Excitement welled inside of you; you didn't recognize the port. You loved exploring new places and seeing what each corner of the world had to offer. 

With a slight pep in your step, you returned to Killian, who was sitting on the side of his bed, pulling his dark shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Are we docking already?" He asked. "She's slowing down."

You nodded in response, your eyes scouring the multiple bruises and cuts adorning his torso, sides and back.

"A small market town. I've never seen it before. Smells like spices." You gently turned his face towards you, lifting the rolled bandages in your hand so he could see. "May I?"

"It's probably Naairol, a small port we frequent when dealing with some of our....let's say _less than decorous_ customers. It's just on the outskirts of the city of Agrabah. Is this completely necessary?" He objected suddenly. "Just put them on yesterday...."

"You have to keep them clean, Killian. Last thing we need at sea is an infection." Begrudgingly, he submitted. His grumbling ceased as you supported his head against your chest and unwrapped the discolored gauze from around his crown. Clumps of hair caked with blood stuck to the bandaged, and you dipped a clean rag into the jug of water to soak and soften them.

"You need a bath," you quipped, eyeing the bloody gash on the base of his skull, courtesy of you. 

"You offering to draw me one?" He teased, flinching slightly as you dabbed the wet rag around the still-oozing wound. You gulped. It needed to stay dry, or infection was likely to set in. Guilt pawed at your insides, but was quickly pushed down. Your quick thinking had saved both of your lives. A slight head wound wasn't much to pay for that.

You finished wrapping his head, and tended to his other wounds, shielding a myriad of open cuts from the elements. You used the last of the gauze on a slash wound stretching from mid spine to his left shoulder blade, careful not to press too hard against the murky discoloration blooming underneath his hot skin.

You threw him a clean shirt from his dresser and headed for the door. "I'll see if I can find some medicinal herbs to keep away infection and help with the pain."

"Pain is managed," you heard him say as he brought his flask to his lips.

You had just enough time to change into a clean pair of clothes and return to the upper deck to help with mooring the ship. You hopped onto the docks, securing the thick line with a few deft coils and made for the market, resting your hand against the coin purse in your coat pocket protectively. The crew had warned you of the high theft rate in this realm.

The solid click of your boots on wood turned to muffled steps as the ground transitioned from dock to dirt, and the familiar padding of solid earth underfoot was welcome. Noise filled the air, a cacophonous harmony of children squealing, vendors calling out to passerbys and the clop of hooves trailing carts. Dirt and dust flew into the air with each gust of wind, and you shielded your nose and mouth with your sleeve.

Squinting your eyes against the floating particles, you made your way into the heart of the market, looking around at each vendor with interest. There were foods you'd never seen before, reddish roots the size of your forearm and breads baked in almost every color you could think of. The herbs and spices were unimaginable; crates and crates of brightly hued powders, shielded against the wind and sand by thin, opaque cloth.

You bargained with a few vendors, slightly shocked at how low a price they were selling there wares. Against your adopted pirate tradition, you slid each of them a few extra coins, for it was not too difficult to realize this sandy seaside town was dirt poor. You began to head back to the ship with ground ginger root, a dull yellow powder called turmeric, and a few others you weren't sure you could pronounce, all stated to have anti-inflammatory and beneficial effects.

You weren't halfway back to the ship when you came upon a rustling in the packed streets of Naairol.

Rushing passed the tightly packed bodies, you saw a vendor stall go flying, dried fruits and vegetables tumbling across the path, only to be snatched up by children and adults alike.

"Hey!" You shouted, breaking into the clearing. "What's going on-"

You stopped short to the sight that confronted you. An enraged Killian stood over a tan-skinned man in dirty white robes, a frightened expression etched into his features as he lay on his back, silver sword glinting at his carotid.

"Where is he?!" Killian growled, inhuman emotion barely contained on his face. "The Crocodile, the monster who gave you that-" he lashed his hook at something clutched in the man's right hand."

"Killian!" You yelled, shocked at his display. "What the hell is going on?!" You sprinted to his side, trying to assess the situation and contemplating whether or not to put yourself between the two men.

"He knows something. This bastard _knows something_ and he won't tell me!"

"So he didn't do anything?" You asserted in a question, knocking Killian's blade away with your boot and stepping over the man. He scuttled backwards, clambering to his feet, about to run away when your arm shot out to clutch the fabric around the man's chest.

"Avery, what do you think you're doing-"

"You can't just attack random strangers for something they may or may not know," you seethed, pressing Killian back as he advanced, sword raised at the man.

"What's your name?" You asked flatly, turned slightly but keeping an eye on the absolute rage emanating from the pirate captain in front of you.

"K-Kahnji," the shaking man stammered with a heavy accent. "My name is Kahnji, and this man attacked me without reason."

"Now that's not true! Show us what you've got in your hand there, mate." You glared at Killian, noticing how his shoulders trembled in anger.

"Th-this?" Kahnji unfurled his fist to reveal a tiny vial of opalescent liquid, gleaming silver and lavender in the harsh sunlight. He kept it close to his body, attempting to shield it from onlookers.

"That right there is _magic_. I've seen it before. Very few places you could've gotten that from."

"Plenty of people in the realms practice magic, Killian."

Kahnji turned towards you, his eyes pleading. "This is a potion for my wife. Please, she's very sick and about to give birth to my child. I must get home to her, with this."

"What did he ask you in exchange for that, hm? What kind of deal did you make?" Hook spat, threatening the frightened man with his sword once again.

"Please, I-"

"Go," you said, releasing him, and keeping yourself planted firmly between Killian and his victim. 

"Belmont!" he barked. " _Move_."

"No, _you_ move. You need to calm down _right_ now, Killian. You are out of control."

You watched as Kahnji scuttled away down an alley, taking note as he disappeared behind a rickety wooden door just before the bend.

"Damnit!" Killian threw his cutlass down into the sand with enough force to rattle the hilt and kick up a cloud of dust. He spun around and kicked the remnants of the fallen vendor stall, splintering shards of wood. 

"Do you know what you just did? He was my first lead in _years_. Years!" He shouted, approaching you quickly and aggressively, thrusting his hook menacingly close to your face. You knocked it away and shoved him back a few steps, witnessing a slight shock flicker across the mask of fury.

"You made a scene, Killian," you said lowly, noticing a few armed guards rushing the way of the commotion. "Turn around, blend in, go back to the ship."

"Not until I-"

"Hook! Leave! _Now!_ " You threatened, drawing your cutlass from it's sheath. 

Moments passed, the violence in his form imminent unless he removed himself from the situation. With a burst of movement, he swept his cutlass up from the ground, sheathed it angrily and spun on his heel, heading back to the Jolly Roger in a fit of turmoil. You didn't move from your spot until you saw him disappear onto the docks of the port. 

Replacing your blade, you turned just in time for the large guards to come busting through a wall of bystanders. Casually, you looked onward, stepping into a sea of people to blend in, leaving the guards with no one to seize, and disappeared into the alley.

_Time to get some real answers._


	18. Demons

"You had no right to do that!" Killian knocked a vase off of the map table in the forecabin, sending shards of porcelain dancing across the wooden floor.

"You have no right to talk to me that way, and you have no right to dictate my actions!"

"You assaulted a man who traded a name for a potion to help his ailing, pregnant wife! What he could've done to you to deserve that, I-"

Killian grew quiet. "A name? He traded a name?" He almost whispered the question. "Who's name?"

You frowned. "Yeah, I thought that was a little funny. He said he traded the name of his unborn child-"

He pounded his fist against the table, closing his eyes. "So it _was_ him," he mused.

"Who? Who's this... _'Crocodile'_ I keep hearing about? All I get is one word, nothing else," you said, exasperated.

"A scaly, slimy beast that took _everything_ away from me," he fumed, raising his hook.

You were taken aback. "He took your hand?"

"Aye....and much more. That was a long time ago. And I cannot _rest_ until this hook is buried in the Dark One's chest."

"The Dark One?" Your eyes widened. 

You'd heard stories as a child, about the Dark One, a being who had control of dark magic, who _was_ dark magic. The blackness devoured their soul, leaving nothing but a husk of the person they once were, filled with an insatiable lust for power.

"The Dark One is a _myth_ , Killian. An old story told to children to keep them in line. No one's had solid proof of their existence in..I don't know how long."

"The _bloody Crocodile_ and the Dark One are one and the same, Belmont. Make no mistake. And I will end him, if it's the last thing I do, and no one will stop me. No one will get in my way. Is that clear?" His eyes glinted darkly, his steely gaze cutting through you. 

"I am your Captain. You are my crew. Step out of line again, and you can walk the bloody plank for all I care." 

With that, he brushed by you, the door rattling on its hinges as it slammed shut.

Hot tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, but you blinked them back. Killian was in the wrong, not you. A man consumed by darkness....it had always been there, but now you knew why.

 

_His smile seemed genuine, but something about it never reached his steely eyes. You'd started to notice some smaller details about Captain Hook, how he carried himself like a man resigned to his fate, how his grin never quite touched his eyes. There was something sad in them, right beneath the surface, clinging to his person and commanding control of his actions._

 

This is what you had gleaned from Killian Jones after only a few days of knowing him. Now, after almost a year of sailing the seas alongside the man, you were finally discovering what drove him. 

Pushing down the conflicting emotions roiling inside of you, you ducked to the floor, sweeping the remnants of the destroyed vase into your bare hands. You hardly noticed the slice running across the flat of your palm until you went to brush a loose lock of hair from in front your eyes. Scarlet blood dripped from your hand, down to your wrist and pooled in the crook of your elbow before it spilling onto the smooth wooden planks below.

"Damnit," you sighed, rising to place the blood smeared remains on the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night you entered your cabin, foregoing your previous hopeful plan of spending the night in Killian's quarters. Closing the door, you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the doorknob before turning towards your small, homey cot.

The flicker of candles amidst pink and white petals drew your eyes to your surroundings; the entirety of the small room was twinkling with small, golden lights, dozens of them encircling the flower-strewn blankets on your bed. A figure emerged from the shadows, head bowed slightly in what you could only assume was....shame? Regret?

He motioned to the bed with a gesture of his hand.

"The market, uh, didn't have roses so I went out and picked some of the desert flora. Dusky dandelions, as the locals call them."

Your feet felt cemented to the floorboards, your heart unsure of whether to beat faster, slower, or halt completely.

You just stared at him.

"I apologize for earlier. It was never my intention to rope you into my quest for vengeance, and I may have... gotten out of hand. No pun intended." He cracked a slight smile, sadness still residing in his crystal blue eyes.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is....I'm sorry. This crippled, blackened shell of a man is what drives my existence. He is all I see, every time I sleep. He reigns over my nightmares, and my every waking moment. But you...." He trailed off, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing, slowly stepping closer to your rigid form. "Sometimes I feel like you calm the noise inside my head. Earlier today was just too much, I let _him_ get to me. If you hadn't been there, I more than likely would have killed that man trying to get what I want. I can't expect you to understand, but I will ask you to try."

His words echoed in your head, and the faint pulsing of your sprained ankle faded from your mind. 

Cautiously, you closed the distance between the two of you, holding steady eye contact with your tragic pirate.

Without a word, you raised your lips to his, hands falling limply to your sides. He pulled back slightly, staring into your eyes, a light blossoming somewhere inside his own.

He took your face in his hands, calloused fingers gingerly caressing your jawline and twisting into your hair as he brought you into a deep kiss. His lips enveloped your own and you let yourself sink into bliss, warmth blooming across your cheeks. For the first time since you'd rescued Killian, you felt like he was truly back.

You laced your fingers through his, leaning your wrist against your shoulder.

"Avery..." He whispered, temporarily breaking from the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

A shiver coursed down your spine, spreading through your extremities and leaving a tingle in your fingers and toes.

Strengthening your resolve, you took both of his hands in yours. Meeting his gaze with wide eyes, you led him to the petal-dappled bed behind you, butterflies knotting your stomach and fluttering in your chest.

Maybe you could quiet his demons tonight.


	19. Unveiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello all! It's me, here to interrupt your not-so-regularly-scheduled reading. I forgot that I kind of like this fic, and re-reading it has been..illuminating? Kind of fun? With a dash of cringe, definitely. I spelled "segue" as "segway" back then, and now I can't stop picturing you and Killian racing around on segways on deck the JR. I have quite a few more chapters that have already been written to import here, but if you are still reading this, I'd love to hear your feedback, even if this work is a little outdated. Carry on, beautiful ones!_
> 
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The warmth of the sun seeped through the window, dappling your bodies and the clothes strewn across the floor. You woke before he did, admiring how peaceful he looked as he slept. 

You sat upright, suddenly nervous about Killian witnessing your bedhead. Running your fingers through your hair, you attempted to dislodge some of the knots tangled in the mess of it. 

_Note to self: sex takes a serious toll on the state of your hair._

Self-conscious, you slipped out of bed, carefully tiptoeing around the room, searching for anything resembling a comb. You crept over to the wooden desk, silently sliding out the drawer and peering inside. There were several small trinkets, and quite a few papers, but no comb. You were pushing the drawer in when something caught your eye. You slipped the yellowing parchment in between your fingers, drawing it out slowly. On it was a faded sketch of a woman with dark hair. She was beautiful, you noticed; the drawing was very well done.

 

You heard a slight stirring coming from the pile of sheets besides you, and a muffled "G'morning, love."

"She's beautiful," you murmured, deep in thought. Something sparked your memory, something that Blackbeard had said during your brief captivity...

"Is this Milah?" You asked, curiously. You were met with brooding silence, and one glance at Killian's face told you that you shouldn't have gone snooping. Slightly disappointed, you placed the portrait back in its resting place. Hesitantly, you returned to the warmth of the bed, drawing the covers up to your chin. 

"I'm sorry," you said meekly. "I was just looking for a brush or a comb, I didn't mean to pry."

After a brief silence, Killian replied.

"It's quite alright, love. Yes." He paused. "That's Milah." 

You were quiet for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

"What happened to her?"

Killian smiled at you with sad eyes and tousled your already mussed hair. 

"How about some breakfast?I don't know about you, but I'm starved," he said as he leapt out of bed with a wide stretch. You giggled, not minding the sudden segue of conversation.

"What's so funny?"

You covered your mouth to hide your smile.

"You might want to put on some pants."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Killian had taken the wheel, leaving you to ponder your thoughts as you stared out across the shimmering waters of the open sea.

"Everything all right, miss?" Smee had appeared next to you, tearing you from your innermost thoughts.

"Smee." You greeted him with a wave. 

"Is there anything I can do? You look rather..well..glum."

You tapped your fingers against the railing of the ship.

"There is something you can do for me, if you don't mind," you began, eyes cast downward.

"Yes, miss, anything." His eager face cheered you up slightly, and you gave him a small smile.

"Killian and I started talking about it this morning, but I don't think he's ready to tell me."

You lifted your head, looking right into Smee's round eyes.

"Would you tell me about Milah? She was with the Captain, I take it."

Smee became skittish and his eyes darted to and fro, searching for anyone within earshot.

"Oh, I don't- I'm not sure the Captain would want me going into that with you, Miss Avery."

"Please, Smee. I'm here, I'm part of this crew. Everybody knows. I think I deserve that much."

Once again, he was wringing his cap in his hands in his telltale worrisome way.

"I..uh..oh, alright...but please. Don't tell the Captain I told you anything. This is a rather..sensitive subject matter..."

You gave him your brightest smile. "I promise."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

With Killian still at the helm, you'd retreated back to his cabin to take another look at his long lost love. Opening the top drawer, you rifled through the various papers and trinkets to where you last saw the portrait. It wasn't there.

"Strange," you muttered to yourself. Maybe you had put it back in the wrong drawer. The second and third drawers had no such drawing either. Crossing the room, you made for the wardrobe, where Killian's usual leather coat was hung. 

You felt through his pockets until your hand closed around something smooth and cool, like glass. Drawing it out, you immediately recognized it as the vial the man from the market, Khanji, had said was medicine for his pregnant wife. You slouched back, sitting on the bed, not tearing your gaze away from the swirling liquid inside the small vial.

He went back.

He went back, despite what you'd told him, despite what he'd said. Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you felt sick. Did he kill him? Is his wife alive? Their child?

You understood Killian's lust for vengeance; when you'd learned The Dark One had also murdered Milah, his actions had made more sense. Still, they were not justified.

"Killian..." You sighed.

"Yes?" You heard the door creak shut behind you, and spun to face him, vial clutched in your hand. Unprepared for this confrontation, you held it up and looked him square in the eye.

"What did you do," you said in a low voice.

He turned his head away, and cast his eyes downward, avoiding eye contact with you.

"I did what I had to do," he said bluntly, toying with his hook.

"You lied to me. You went back for him. When? While I was _sleeping?_ "

"Avery, I don't expect you to understand. The Dark One has much to pay for, and even a chance at finding him-"

"No. This is _wrong_ , Killian. You just killed people! Innocent people! All in the name of your quest for vengeance! No. I can't. This is..." You threw your hands in the air, tossing the vial at Killian so he couldn't stop you as you stormed out.

His hook lashed out and caught the fabric clinging to your shoulder, yanking you around.

"We've already had this discussion," he growled, eyes burning. "I am the master of myself, no other. You _do not_ tell me what to do."

"So I'm supposed to just sit here while you murder innocent people?!"

"If I so choose, then yes!"

He pocketed the vial and grabbed you with his hand.

"Avery, there are things you don't understand."

"Do you think this is what she wanted for you?" You answered coolly, locking eyes with him.

He recoiled, seemingly shocked at either your words, your tone, or both.

You repeated yourself. "Do you think this is what Milah would've wanted for you? For you to waste your life on a fruitless quest for vengeance in her name? You claim to love her, but I'm not sure you truly know what that means." 

You shook your head. 

"No. She deserved better than you." 

Ripping yourself from his grasp, you walked away, slamming the cabin door behind you.


	20. Double-Edged

_"No. She deserved better than you." Ripping yourself out of his grasp, you walked away, slamming the cabin door behind you._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

That night, you stayed up for hours, mulling over the days' events. Killian was so blindly obsessed with rage and vengeance that he'd murdered innocent people, even after you had thought you'd gotten through to him. Clearly, he wasn't going to listen to you, and if he wouldn't listen to you...how could you trust him? Today had proven beyond a doubt that you couldn't. 

You let your head fall into your hands. What could you do? You had tried to help him. 

He wasn't ready for you to help him. 

Solidifying your resolve, you grabbed a strip of parchment off of your bedside table and a quill, and began writing. You packed your things, glanced around the room, and walked though the door, silently shutting it.

Assessing the deck, you saw nobody around. Checking the cracks in Killian's cabin door, you saw no candlelight. 

_Good. He must be sleeping._

You made for the lifeboats, tossing your supplies inside and hoisting the line to bring it over the edge.

 

 

"So you're leaving us, is that it?" His voice crept from the shadows, catching you off guard, and immediately this scene seemed familiar to you. You sighed, clutching the line in your hands and dropping your shoulders. You'd been caught.

"There's no place for me here," you answered bluntly, and continued hauling the small boat over the edge of the ship.

"There isn't?" He returned, quizzically. "She may not be the largest ship, but the Jolly Roger has a fair amount of cabin space."

You braced yourself and turned around. Killian's eyes were wide, and you had to quell the pang in your chest. You couldn't stay. Not right now. You had to find your own way for a while. "No..." You whispered, mostly to yourself.

Killian raised an eyebrow. "No...?"

You shook your head. "I can't be here anymore."

His arms fell to his side. "That's...less than descriptive, love. Perhaps some context could further shed some light." His voice became tight and his tone flat as the mirrored surface of the ocean. 

"I was on my way to your cabin, when I decided to make sure the rest of the crew were sound asleep. Must've just missed you." His hand deftly retrieved a scrap of paper from his coat pocket and waved it in the air.

"Was this all the notice I was to be given?" He brought the note in front of him and recited it while taking slow deliberate steps towards you. 

" _'Hook-'_ affectionate, using my moniker, really personal- _'thank you so much for the past year, I'll surely never forget it. I can't put into words why I must leave, especially in this manner, but it is at my discretion.'_ Very well spoken, Lady Belmont, but I insist you try." He stood directly in front you, glaring at your still expression. "Oh, yes, one last bit, " _'Take care, A.B.'_ "

With unshielded contempt, he tossed the note aside. 

"Beautiful penmanship, I must admit. Did they teach you that at your fancy castle, with your elite tutors and noble-birthed privilege?"

You stood your ground, letting his sharp words bounce off your facade. Fire flamed beneath your cheeks, and embers pricked the corners of your lids, but you did not break. Jaw clenched against hurtful words, you bent to retrieve an oar at your feet to toss into the wooden lifeboat.

Like lightning, Killian's hand was at your throat, his face inches from your own. His hot breath warmed your neck against the cold air, sending shivers shooting down your spine. 

"No one leaves this ship or my crew without my permission." You felt his lips falter, and hasten with brittle resolve. "Or you can bloody well walk the plank."

_Do it. I can't make you do anything,_ you thought, unable to form the words.

You hadn't realized how much this would hurt. _He only thinks he needs you. He will heal, in short time,_ you told yourself.

"Captain," your voice broke. "Permission to leave the vessel."

"Denied," he seethed, too quickly.

"Killian," you pleaded softly, wrapping your fingers around the hand that was still clutching your throat. He blinked several times, loosening his grip on you. You inhaled deeply, fighting the black that had begun to encroach upon your vision.

You leaned your forehead to his and closed your eyes. He dropped his hand to the nape of your neck. You felt his calloused fingertips gently trace the thin scars along your shoulder as his thumb brushed your jawline, then your cheek.

"Get off my ship, your ladyship. Before I change my mind." His voice was quiet and bitter with defeat. He pivoted on his heel and walked briskly back towards his cabin. 

Blinking back tears, you grabbed the other oar and released the boat into the water. Taking one last look around the deck, you hauled yourself overboard, climbing down the siding into your small wooden chariot. Sliding the oars in place, you began rowing towards a black silhouette of land standing in stark contrast against the grayish muffled night sky. 

You glanced up at the Jolly Roger before she disappeared from view. A shadowy figure stood out among the yellow striped hull of the vessel, never moving until you had vanished from sight.


	21. New Town, Who Dis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh my goodness, I just remembered we're about to be introduced to an original character, and I love them and I hope you will too. At least I remember loving them....it's been a few years since they forced their way to life. How's everyone's day going?? Is this random commentary interrupting the flow? Apologies. Short chapter today._
> 
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Tonight, you found yourself in yet another rowdy tavern, the stench of sweat and booze wafting together to create that unpleasant, yet welcoming atmosphere. You sat in a dim corner of the joint, a ragged and worn table supporting your large mug of ale. 

Absently, you tapped your fingers against the table, letting the dull roar of shouted voices and drunken laughter cloud your mind.

Three weeks you'd been like this. Or had it been a month? You weren't sure. Time didn't pass the same on land for you, not anymore.

As much as it had pained you, you had to leave the Jolly Roger, for a while at least. Just until you could clear your mind of Killian. Even if you couldn't be with him the way you wanted to be, he was still family, and the Jolly Roger was still your home. 

You chugged the rest of your ale and stood up, your chair shuffling against the rough slated floor. You made your way to the innkeeper, a stocky older man with silver close-cropped hair, and handed him two gold coins, ensuring your room for another week. You gave him another to keep any housekeeping staff out; you preferred privacy.

You started for the staircase, about to head up for the night, when something caught your attention, The large table by the stairs was occupied by hardy looking men, guffawing and sloshing their beer all over the place. You immediately pegged them as sailors. Their skin was tanned, necks red, and their greasy unkempt hair was caked with salt, but that wasn't what had interested you. 

At the head of the table sat a younger looking man, mid to late twenties, with shocking blond hair, not unlike your own. His face was stretched into a wide grin as he very loudly and actively regaled the men- and anyone who would listen- with his tales on the high seas.

You meandered over his way, keeping along the outer edge of the interested patrons. They filtered in and out, and you got the sense that this wasn't the first time they'd heard this story. The impassioned, and clearly inebriated, man was surrounded by women, fawning over him like he was a puppy dog. He grabbed the nearest bar wench and plopped her in his lap, all the while not breaking his verbal stride. The women giggled and fought over him like a swarm of bees, and eventually you became bored. 

You withdrew from the crowd, but not before making accidental eye contact with the golden-haired man.

His eyes sparkled and he shoved the barmaid from him, patting his lap. 

"Oi, little lass! Why don't you be a good girl and come 'ere. Papa's got a seat for ya," he hollered across the table, eliciting cheers and whistles from the men, and pouted looks from the women vying for his attention. 

You ignored his derisive shouts and turned away, face beet red. You disappeared behind a crowd of drunken bystanders, taking the stairs two at a time until you found your room. Closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath.

"What am I doing here," you mumbled, crossing the room to the small bed. Getting ready for the night, you donned your nightgown, and tried your best to doze off amidst the ruckus coming from the bar below.


	22. Hey, You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ah yes. The youngish-blonde-protagonist-that-wanted-freedom-but-she-is-royalty-and-was-also-a-virgin trope. Geez. Well, I apologize for THAT. Forgot I instituted that. Onward._
> 
> ************************************************************************************

"You were in the tavern last night, weren't you? Thought I recognized those eyes," a surprisingly warm and uplifting voice called from a few feet in front of you. You looked up, meeting the wide grin of a somewhat familiar face. You recognized him as the outgoing, fair-haired crewman from the night before.

"Pardon me, I hardly recognized you without three women on each of your arms and your foot in your mouth," you replied dryly, downing the rest of your ale and signaling the bar wench for another mug. 

His smile widened. 

"Glad I made a lasting impression. Do you mind?" He grabbed a chair, not waiting for your reply before plopping himself down beside you. You shifted uncomfortably, tipping the barmaid as she delivered your third drink of the morning. 

Tanned, deft hands swiped the mug from out in front of you, and the stranger brought it to his nose, inhaling the burning scent of liquor. 

"A woman after my own heart,"he laughed, grabbing the maid by the hand before she was out of reach. "The lady'll have a water, miss. Please and thank you," he added, with a wink. Smitten, the bar maid stumbled over a reply, and scuttled off.

"Hey!" You uttered in mild shock, reaching for your drink.

"It's hardly nine in the morning, lass. No respectable lady ought to be drinking at a time like this." He downed the contents of the mug, moving out of the path of your futile grasps. You hunched back in your chair, fuming. 

"Good thing I'm not a respectable lady," you huffed. He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your childish demeanor. 

"Now that's just not true, otherwise you would've ended up in my bedchambers last night and I wouldn't be trying so hard to figure you out right now."

You blanched. "Wow, a real straight shooter. I think your water's here," you nodded towards the pink-faced maid as she placed the glass on the table, all the while making bedroom eyes at the pompous man sitting next to you.

"Have a nice day," you shot, as you slid up from your chair and made for the door.

"Hey-wait!" You heard the scuffle of chair legs sliding across wood as he dodged the maids subtle advances and leapt after you. "I never even got your name," he said. "I apologize for my mannerisms."

"No you don't, you love your mannerisms because they get you what you want. Usually," you added, not glancing back, pushing your way through the front door to the bright morning outside.

"Well can you blame me? I'm pretty adorable."

You spun on your heel to face him, narrowly avoiding a horse drawn cart trotting through the busy dirt road by the seaside market.

"What do you want from me?" You said flatly, planting your feet firmly in front of you. "Between last night and now, nothing has changed. I won't be another conquest, so save your precious energy."

"It's all about the chase, love," he cooed, catching a strand of flyaway hair and tucking it behind your ear. You slapped his hand away, drawing back on instinct. 

"Don't call me _love_ , mate," you hissed. You continued on, not knowing exactly where you were headed, since all your belongings were in your room at the tavern inn. _Whatever it takes to shake this creep_ , you thought.

"Ahah! So we're mates now! My name's Tolliver Roberts, but most everyone just calls me by the latter. Not sure what poor ol' mum was thinking with that name, to be honest. Hasn't hindered me in the least though. I overcame it," he boasted proudly.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trudging forward and doing your best to ignore his incessant rambling.

"Haven't seen you around these parts before. What brings you to our quaint little port town of Meristol? Business? Or pleasure? Because I might be able to help-" You cut him off mid sentence with a right hook to the jaw, sending him staggering back a few steps, while bewilderment bloomed across his face.

You both stood in stunned silence. Roberts burst into laughter, rubbing his jaw tenderly. "I'll admit, I'm not sure I deserved _that_ but, hell, can't be angry to be on the receiving end of a punch like that. By a woman, no less. You've got a mean throw," he chuckled. "Perhaps it's best you didn't accompany me last night. I would've undoubtedly done something to upset your....sensitive constitution."

You blinked several times, still recovering from your sudden outlash. You massaged your knuckles absentmindedly. 

"I....I'm sorry," you managed. "Now's just not a good time. I can't be fending off suitors," you murmured apologetically. "And I'm sure you've done something to deserve scuffing up that pretty face."

"Suitors?" Roberts laughed. "Oh sweetheart, what a peculiar word. I'm just your average, charming scoundrel. It is my sworn duty to provide all the beautiful ladies with a night to remember, provided they forget my face in the morning," he winked at you, and you noticed the pink blotch starting to deepen on his jawline. You made a face.

"Roberts," you repeated. He lunged into a deep, dramatic bow, stooping to one knee and swiping your hand. 

"At your service, miss...." He trailed off.

"Belmont," you mumbled, face flushing deeply at the curious stares of passerbys.

"Belmont? Of the Belmont royals?"

You scrambled to correct your mistake. _Damnit, never give out your real name to strangers! Especially when you're in hiding_ , you scolded yourself.

"N-no! I said _'Beaumont'_. No "L". Ava Beaumont." Whew. Quick save.

"Ah, the hair would've made more sense," he pondered out loud.

Defensively, you ran your fingers through your hair, flinching at the ache of a bruise forming on the ridge of your first knuckle.

He laughed. "The telltale blonde," he said, pointing to your hair, then at his. "I get asked all the time if I'm royalty around here."

You snorted. "You sure you don't just ask your _beautiful ladies_ to address you as 'Your Highness'?

He brushed off your snide comment, and continued following you as you made your way to the docks.

You scanned the small marina, and felt a twinge of sadness nip at your chest. There were a few decent looking ships moored, but you couldn't help but search for the Jolly Roger. You missed her recognizable yellow and navy striped hull, and the shallow draft of her streamlined designed. An elbow nudged your arm, and you tore your gaze away from the calm water.

"You alright there, dear? If I didn't know better, I'd think there was a crack in that mighty facade of yours."

"I'm fine," you quipped, blinking back an unwanted tear before Roberts could catch a glimpse.

He sighed, and even though you didn't know the man, it seemed out of character.

"Tell you what," he started, placing a hand gingerly on your shoulder. "Let's head back to the pub. You can drink as much ale as you like, on me. And I'll stave off any advances for the next-" he shielded his eyes and turned towards the sun, which had not yet reached its midpoint in the sky "- ten hours or so. Cross me heart," he said, swiping his hand across his chest.

"Rum?" You said cautiously, raising your brow. You could handle this goofy sailor. Might as well get a few free drinks out of it. Plus, you couldn't say you hadn't missed having a bit of company since you'd left Killian and his crew.

"Even better!" Roberts chuckled.

"Fine," you agreed half-heartedly.

"That's the spirit!" He sang, linking his arm through the crook of your elbow and leading you back the way you came.


	23. New

"Sorry about your face." The two of you sat in the far corner of the poorly lit tavern.

Roberts held up his hand. "Don't even worry yourself with it. It'll take a lot more than that to damage my looks. After all, I still have my charm and charisma. If anything, you've just given me a sob story."

"What do you mean?"

As if on queue, the same bar maid from earlier approached the table.

She squealed. "Oh, what happened to you? Your poor face...."

Roberts smiled and tossed a barely-visible wink in your direction before turning towards the maid and carefully rubbing his jaw.

"Ah, this? Nothing that wasn't worth it. When I see a damsel in distress, I just can't help myself. You should see the other guys."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh my, how many were there?"

"Six, in total," Roberts went on, attempting to weigh his words with as much bravado as he could muster. "But I got the lady's belongings back from those thieves, and that's all that matters," he finished with dramatic flair.

"You brave soul," the waitress flirted, twisting a lock of raven hair in between her spidery fingers. 

"All in a day's work....madam..?" He smiled at her.

"Tanya!" She squeaked. "My name's Tanya."

"Tanya," he grinned, flashing his eyes. You gagged internally, not knowing how much more of this you could take.

"Well, Tanya, the lady and I will have some of your finest rum, then."

"Of course," she gushed. "On the house."

Roberts smiled sweetly. "Oh Tanya? Better just bring the bottle then."

She hesitated, but nodded, casting a foul stare in your direction. You couldn't help it as your lips twitched upwards into a faint smile.

"You're despicable," you stated as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

"Perks of being yours truly," he toasted, as Tanya placed a bottle of dark liquid and two small glasses on the table.

"Speaking of, what time do you get off, lovely?"

Tanya flushed. "My shifts over around sunset."

"Perfect!" He exclaimed, and she skipped backed to the bar with a giggle.

"Consolation prize?" You asked, skeptically.

"A man has needs, m'lady. Jealous?" He snickered, pouring a shot of rum into his cup.

You swiped the bottle from his hands and brought it directly to your lips, foregoing your shotglass.

"Not at all," you retorted, feeling the sweet burning sensation travel down your throat and spread through your chest.

Roberts eyed you humorously, his green eyes glinting in the dim light of the tavern.

"You're quite a creature, lass."

"Uh-uh, you promised no more advances."

Roberts scoffed. "Just an observation."

A few more minutes of idle chitchat passed, and you decided Roberts wasn't all bad, despite his pretty playboy act.

"You never answered my earlier question. What are you doing in Meristol? I noticed you have a room here, so you don't live around these parts. Just passing through?" He had moved the bottle out of your reach, and was filling your glass at regular intervals. "Or are you looking for something?"

"Hm?" You shrugged, mid-drink.

"Earlier, at the docks. It seemed like you were looking for something in particular."

You shook your head, and stopped short when the room started to spin.

"Just reminiscing. The sea and I have a...complicated relationship." You wrapped your fingers around your glass, but didn't drink. You didn't trust him enough to lose your wits. You knew your limits.

"Ah, the sea. You sound like an old sailor there, dearest."

You were quiet for a few minutes, before speaking up. "What about you? Just taking in the flora and fauna around these parts?"

He laughed. "Nah, if you're looking for Flora and Fauna, they're down the road at the brothel. Lovely girls. Twins, wouldn't you believe it."

You stuck out your tongue in revolt. "Just jesting, love," he snickered. "Actually, this is where we make port most often. I've got a few loyal customers in Meristol, so I'm usually not far from here."

You lifted your head in interest. "You're a sailor? I figured as much last night."

"Aye. I've had my sealegs since I was born. I've loved many a woman, but my first love is the sea."

"Okay, a little too much information there, sailor."

He plastered a wide, pearly smile on his face and downed another glass of liquor.

You sighed. "I've been at sea for the better part of the last year. Being on land for this long just......feels stifling."

"And what manner of sailing was a lady such as yourself doing? Sightseeing? A romantic voyage perhaps?"

A smile played on your lips, your inhibitions slowly starting to lift away.

"Pirating."

Roberts' expression never faltered; instead he let out his token laugh and raised his glass, encouraging you to do the same.

"You know, I believe you! Cut from the same cloth, you and I! Ha!"

"So the prettyboy scoundrel's a pirate," you laughed. "Why does that not surprise me?"

He leaned back in his chair. "So, your captain and crew around? Haven't seen you with anyone else but myself here."

You fidgeted, finally downing the contents of your glass. "Things got messy," you started slowly. "I elected to leave. Start over somewhere new."

"I can respect that," Roberts said, pouring the last of the rum into your glass. "It appears we've run dry," he mused, eyeing the empty bottle. "Fortunately, we happen to have caskets of the stuff aboard the ship. And we have a little over an hour till sunset, so our agreement still stands." He stood up, retrieving a gold coin and laying it on the table, under a glass. He stretched out his hand. "Care to join me?"

Hesitantly, you slid your arms through your coat, getting unsteadily to your feet. You nodded in the direction of an occupied Tanya, who hadn't noticed that the two of you were leaving. 

"What about your sure thing?" 

Roberts waved his hand, steadying you against his shoulder. 

"Seems I've stumbled upon something far more interesting than another bar wench," he smiled. "I've found myself a lady pirate, and I am indeed intrigued." You exhaled in mock annoyance, regaining your balance and heading for the door.

The dirt roads of Meristol were cast in an orange glow, the sun hanging low on the ocean's horizon. The smell of salt and mud mixed in the slight breeze, creating a sweet earthy scent that wasn't unpleasant.

Roberts led the way, once again linking arms with you. His lengthy gait was difficult to keep up with, and he slowed to your pace without you asking.

Your boots thudded onto the sturdy dock and you glanced around. "So which one we headed to?" You asked curiously. He flashed a smile, and pointed at a ship, not much larger than the Jolly Roger, moored at the end of the dock. "That one."

You stared in awe as you came closer, admiring the dark cherry sheen of the hull. The white sails stood out in stark comparison, hanging limply to the thick masts in the quiet air. She rocked gently in the tide, and you caught a glimpse of a silver nameplate laid into the stern of the ship.

"Bloody Mary," you said softly to yourself. "Seems fitting."

You quickly found yourself at the gangplank, and Roberts waved his arm in front of him, gesturing for you to board first. "After you, m'lady."

There were a few crew members on deck, cleaning the deck and fiddling with lengths of rope. You felt Roberts close behind you, and shivered involuntarily, realizing you'd never had the best luck with other pirates outside of your previous crew.

"Captain on deck!" You heard a small voice quip, and you spun around. _He must've been right behind us,_ you thought.

"Aye, thank you lad!" Roberts voice bellowed from right beside you, and you stared at him in bewilderment. "Captain?" Your jaw dropped.

"Did I forget to mention that?" He laughed loudly. "That doesn't seem like me. This way, love." 

You followed quietly, wracking your brain. Every captain you had ever met or even heard of had some sort of fancy wardrobe, an over-the-top hat, something to distinguish him from the rest of the crew. Roberts was dressed in nothing but a loose white tunic and simple tanned breeches.

He held the door to the forecabin open, and you whisked your way through, muttering a quick "thank you". A large table was located in the center of the room, a vast yellowed map spread over its surface and weighed down with various objects. Roberts lifted several compasses and like trinkets to roll the map up, storing it in a nearby drawer. 

Nimbly, he swiped a bottle from a richly embossed cabinet and two crystal glasses. You wandered around the room, admiring how the light filtering through the large window illuminated the extravagant walls and furniture of the forecabin. The deep mahogany of the door and window frames were inlaid with silver and gold leaf, shimmering in the pinkish hue of the sunlight.

"Business been good?" You asked, straining to keep your tone level.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I have standards." You tossed your head at him and scoffed. "I never would've guessed."

He offered you a glass and you took a seat, the plush backing of the chair a drastic relief from the weeks of sitting in splintery chairs and straw mattresses. You raised the glass to your lips, feeling his eyes on you. You downed the whole glass in one gulp, tilting your head and looking at him in confusion. "That's not rum," you said.

Once again, Roberts laughed. "That, my dear, is brandy. Seemed only proper to treat my honored guest with something more...refined."

"I'm flattered," you offered as he poured you another glass.

He leaned forward, popping the stopper back into the bottle of brandy.

"Now, Miss Ava Beaumont, the pirate lass, what can you tell me about yourself?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, shortly after sunset, you left the Bloody Mary. Her captain had offered to walk you back to the inn, but you had declined, stating quite colorfully that you didn't need a bodyguard. Hesitantly, he'd let you go, watching as you stumbled across the deck and onto the shadowy dock.

You staggered up the steps to the second floor of the tavern, faintly noticing the dolled-up black-haired girl boasting extreme cleavage staring daggers at you.

You fumbled in your pockets for the key, leaning against the dirty wall for support.

"Where'd you go..." you murmured, willing the large brass key denoted "6" to appear.

"Looking for this?" A sly voice rose from behind you, and you spun around, losing your balance. Someone caught you in sturdy arms, and you heard a familiar chuckle by your ear.

"Tolliver, what the hell," you slurred, ineffectively batting his arm from around you.

"I'm actually quite impressed. You sure as hell hold your liquor as well as any other sailor I know," he teased. Effortlessly, he swung you up in his arms, balancing you between the wall and his chest as he unlocked the door to your room.

"Put me down," you mumbled as you nuzzled your head against the warmth of his chest.

"That's the plan, dearest," he chuckled. "Although....you do look quite content as you are."

"Put me down," you repeated faintly, feeling your mind start to cloud and your body sink into a soft, welcoming blackness.

"Put me down, Killian..."


	24. Set Sail

Black and gray shapes played in front of your eyelids as your mind gently began to rouse itself. Everything was quiet, your head had finally stopped pounding and-

"Wakey wakey, little lady!"

"Ughhhhh....." You rolled over, gripping the thin pillow around your head, willing yourself to go back to sleep. The smell of eggs and ham wafted throughout the room and, after much deliberation, you sat up slowly. You cracked an eyelid open, and were met with the sight of a fresh-faced Roberts holding a large plate in either hand. A pitcher of juice sat on the bedside table, a glass already poured for you.

"What the...." you slurred groggily. Your eyes flew open and you immediately clutched the blanket to your chest, unwilling to look down. 

"What are you doing in my room?" You managed, kneading the blanket nervously.

"Well good morning to you, too!" He placed the plates on the table, and walked over to the window, throwing open the curtains and letting the unwelcome sunshine come pouring in.

"Wait...were you here last night?!" Your voice was shrill, and Roberts laughed in spite of it. 

"So you _do_ remember."

"You mind filling me in? I'm a bit hazy on the details," you croaked. He handed you a plate and a fork, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, and began to eat his own breakfast. You caught a glimpse of white on your shoulder and sighed in relief; you were clothed, wearing your simple white nightgown.

Did you undress yourself?! Or did he-

"Well after I accompanied you back here, you invited me in and we shared a sweet night of passionate lovemaking-" The look of horror on your face cut him off promptly, as he threw up his hands in defense, sending a piece of scrambled egg inadvertently soaring through the air.

"Kidding! I'm just kidding! You had left your key on my ship, I was just returning it. Luckily for you too, you barely made it up the stairs. I tucked you into bed and then I left. I swear on my word."

You stared at him, unblinking. "Then how did I get into my nightgown!?"

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Now that's another story. After I finished up some, uh, _business_ , downstairs, I came up to bring you a glass of water, just to check on you.

Don't be too hard on yourself, love. Apparently, you thought I was someone else."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you choked back a piece of thickly cut ham before washing it down with juice, stifling a coughing fit.

"What does that mean?" You strained to keep your voice level.

"How's the food? Made it myself." He beamed.

You squinted your eyes at him, and he let out a sigh.

"Okay, so you _started_ to take off your clothes in front of me, but I found the nightgown in your drawer and covered you before I saw anything. Pirate's honor."

Your jaw dropped and you felt your cheeks start to redden.

"Don't punch me again," he added quickly. "I was a perfect gentleman."

"Th-thank you," you said slowly. "I'm sorry if I put you in an awkward position."

"Trust me, lass, wouldn't have been awkward." He winked, causing you to turn away in embarrassment. "On the other hand, you may be the first woman to have kept me here till morning, and most definitely the first I've made breakfast for."

You clenched your jaw. "Uh, thanks, I guess. That actually brings me to a question I've been wanting to ask you."

"Fire away," he said with a dazzling smile.

"What's this...fascination with me? You don't exactly seem to be the kind of guy to hang around or chase after a girl for long. You've been surprisingly....cordial. I'm not trying to offend. Just curious."

"That's me, the cordial captain," he grinned. "You done?" He asked, gesturing towards your spotless plate. You nodded, and he grabbed the plate, heading for the door with the dishes. "I'll be back up in fifteen, you should get dressed. I'd like to show you something, if you're interested."

You kicked your legs off of the bed, and started towards the wardrobe.

"Oh, and Beaumont?" You turned towards the door, not realizing Roberts was still there.

"That Killy-what's-his-name sure is a lucky fellow," he snickered, before closing the door and disappearing.

You stared wide-eyed at the door, heart pounding in your chest. You brought your palm to your forehead, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

 

Roughly a quarter of an hour passed and there was a knock on the door. You grabbed your coat and pack, fixed a few flyaway strands of hair in the mirror and made for the door. Roberts glanced down at your satchel and scanned the empty room. "You leaving or something?"

"After today, yes. I figured I've spent long enough in one place, it's time to move on."

"Good to know," he smiled, and took your arm. You descended the stairs and located the innkeeper, letting him know you were vacating early. On your way to the door, you noticed Tanya, the barmaid, casting lovey faces towards Roberts. He waved at her as you both walked through the front door.

"Oh gods, ew. Was that the _'business'_ you attended to last night?"

He grinned sheepishly.

"Nevermind, I don't want to know." You shook the thought out of your head.

"Careful, dear. Jealousy is unbecoming of you."

"And desperation isn't an attractive trait either," you threw back.

"Actually, I've decided I like jealousy on you. You turn this bright shade of pink. Really brings out your eyes," he teased, flicking his finger across the bridge of your nose. 

"Ow," you mumbled, crossing your arms and sulking. "And I'm not jealous," you said quickly, realizing you hadn't even defended yourself.

He gave you a wordless smile, and continued forward.

"Mind if we stop by my ship?" Roberts asked.

"Sure. When do you set sail next?" You wondered how much longer you had this pompous, yet amiable pirate captain to keep you company.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. "Funny you should ask. Today, actually. In a few hours. The crew's just finishing up stocking for our journey."

"Where are you going?"

Roberts hesitated. "Farther than usual. One of our customer's has something...specific in mind. I can tell you more in a bit if you're still interested."

Curious, you nodded. Together, you boarded the Bloody Mary, fending off the stares of the crewmen. You were surprised to see quite a few women among them, as well as the young boy that had announced Roberts as Captain on deck the night before. He couldn't have been any older than eleven, with shaggy dark hair poking out in clumps from beneath a tattered green bandanna wrapped around his crown, framing shocking blue eyes. They eyed you warily, and you felt an uneasy pit in your stomach.

Roberts took your hand and led you up the steps to the bow. The helm was painted even darker than the hull, glinting almost deep blue in the sunlight.

"She sure has an interesting paint job," you mentioned, and Roberts smiled.

"When she sails at night, she's nearly invisible at greater distances. In the dying light of the sun, the hull's reflection makes her look crimson, and she blends in with the red and orange of the water. It's truly a spectacle to behold," his eyes shimmered, and you could tell how proud he was of his vessel.

"Hence the name," you concluded. " _Bloody Mary_."

"Aye."

You grasped the smooth wooden rail with both hands, tossing your hair into the slight breeze, reveling in the familiar embrace of the salty ocean air.

"So what do you say, Beaumont? Sail with us?"

"Hm?" He'd caught you by surprise, and he knew it. He laughed, pleased with himself.

"What do you think? You already have your belongings with you. We leave port at noon. And-" he grinned "-you did already say you were leaving Meristol. Why not with us?"

You knit your brows in contemplation. "Can you tell me where it is you're sailing?"

He shook his head, smile never leaving his face. "Sorry lass, it's a pretty tightlipped affair. I'd be glad to share it with you if you join me crew."

You looked around hesitantly. "I'm not sure...your crew doesn't seem to like me very much."

"Nonsense!" He waved your concern away with a flick of his wrist. "They just don't know you like I do."

"You don't really know me either, Roberts," you remarked with a shrug.

"I've known you for a whole day! Believe me, I have a sense about people. I wouldn't have hung around for so long if you weren't something special." He lifted your chin with one finger, turning your face towards his, his emerald eyes dancing with a playful sparkle. "Plus," he began. "I've almost seen you naked once already, and if I let you get away now, all hope is lost."

You batted his hand away and laughed dryly. "You're disgusting," you commented, unable to hide the rush of pink flowing to your cheeks.

You looked him over; in many ways, he was a lot like Killian, minus the dark, brooding and vengeful aspects of his nature. Killian would dislike him, you knew it.

You shook your head, dislodging the thought of Killian from your brain. You'd left him behind, for a reason.

"Okay."

Roberts slapped your shoulder in approval. "I knew you'd make the right decision."

"Tolliver, I'm not making any promises. I'll stay for a little while, that's all I'm saying. I...just have to make sure it's the right fit. For everyone."

"I completely understand, lovely. This calls for celebration!"

He took your wrist and dragged you to the steps overlooking the deck, where most of the crew was working.

"Ladies and gents! Please welcome the newest addition to our crew, Ava Beaumont!" Shocked, the blood drained from your face and you were frozen in place. The sordid crew mustered up a few half-hearted welcomes and claps, but consisted mainly of crude catcalls by the older men.

"I know it's all in good fun mates, but let's be perfectly polite, we want her to like us. She'll be staying with us for a while," he continued enthusiastically, calming the murmur rippling throughout the deck. You noticed some of the women turning up their noses and continuing with their work. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"As is tradition, we'll hold a small celebration later tonight, after we've set sail, provided we land on calm seas."

This elicited whoops and cheers from the crew, and you prayed to the gods this celebration would have enough liquor to calm your nerves.

"That'll be all. As you were," Roberts nodded to his crew, and they returned to their tasks. He turned to you, raising his brow when he saw your face. "You okay there, love? You're as pale as a sheet."

You shook it off. "It's nothing. You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

"I tend to do that a lot, apparently. You'll get used to it." Still gripping your hand, he jogged down the steps to the deck, swinging open the door to the forecabin and ushering you inside.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"They won't bite. You should join them, Ava."

"Hm?" You mumbled, startled at the use of the alias you'd given Roberts. 

"Oh, yeah. I'm not sure, I've just got a lot on my mind." You pawed at his bottle, successfully swiping it from his grasp after a few inebriated attempts. Taking a deep swig, you closed your eyes, feeling the sweet burn course through your body.

"Good gods, girl," Roberts sighed with a smile, taking a seat on the rail by you, propping one leg up against the barrel you were sitting on. "You've got some deep-seated issues, dontcha?"

"Excuse me?" You widened your eyes in surprise and cocked your head to the side.

"Oh please, you're drunk. What better time to talk about what's bothering you?"

"Not off to a great start, _Tolliver_. If you want to talk damage, why don't you just look at yourself. The attention-mongering, sex-craving egomaniac with probable mommy issues."

He made a face. "Not usually what I hear from others about my first impressions, but I'll honor your opinion. And Raunchy Rhonda was a lovely woman, thank you very much."

You raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Raunchy...Rhonda?"

He leaned in close to you, his ever-constant smile playing on his full lips. "My hometown had a nickname for dear ol' mother."

After a moment, you burst into laughter, shoving the rum bottle back at Roberts.

He plucked it gracefully from your grasp, appreciating your laughter. "I've also been told she was great in the sack, so how about that for mummy issues?"

Still giggling, you tried to right yourself, but found that the world was starting to spin around you.

"I am soooo sorry for that," you laughed, slurring your words and gripping Roberts' arm for support.

The light from the oil lanterns scattered around deck were dancing in your vision, blurring together into yellow streaks dashed across an inky landscape.

"Whoa," you muttered as you lurched forward, tipping off of the powder keg and falling squarely into Tolliver's waiting arms.

"Ugh," you mused, more at him than at your inebriated state.

"Okay, lovely, you're cut off," Roberts almost sang, propping you against his side and wrapping his arm around your back until you could stand-mostly- on your own.

"Unfortunately, we don't have a cabin available for you yet, we have some reorganizing to do on the lower deck. As a homecoming present, you can stay in mine tonight."

"Oh, lucky me!" You raised your voice in mock appreciation.

The two of you walked side by side, exchanging quips and laughs until Roberts swung open a door, ushering you inside.

"Nice place you got here, Tolly," you gushed, slapping his arm affectionately.

"Ughh no, please let that not be a nickname," he moaned, kicking off his boots. They landed somewhere nearby with a faint pair of _thuds_.

"I dunno, it kind of suits y-" Tolliver cut you off before you could finish your sentence, his warm lips working against yours, his tongue slipping passed your teeth to encircle your own in a rhythmic cadence.

"What th-" You sputtered, breaking away for a quick moment.

Suddenly, everything seemed to slip away. You weren't sad anymore. For this moment, everything had lifted, and you felt free again.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pressed your mouth against his, and he pulled you into him. He pushed you roughly into a wall a feet few behind you, lifting you off your toes and securing your legs around his torso. Your head was spinning, a dizzying wave rushing over you as you clawed at his thin shirt, pulling it up from under your legs and over his head. Roberts let out a moan as you lightly bit his lip, teasing him as your hands trailed down his well-toned chest.

Your entwined bodies didn't make it to the plush blankets adorning the bedframe until well into morning.


	25. Man or Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _....and that's all I have written for now! Suffice to say, re-reading this and posting it here has made me want to continue it, since I haven't even gotten close to the part that made me want to start writing this fic in the first place. I hope, if you were able to muster through the intro chapters and make it here, that you're enjoying it! See ya soon! In the meantime, I have a LokiXReader fic in the works if that's your thing. Take care, my preciousssses! Preciosi? <3 _
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"So you never did tell me about this secretive expedition of yours."

Warmth pooled in from the window above, dappling your bodies in yellow sunshine. Roberts trailed his fingers across your cheek, tapping you on the nose. 

"So I didn't." Sitting up in bed, he stretched his arms over his head, the lean muscles of his bare shoulders and chest rippling in the light.

"An interested party approached me personally a few weeks ago with a....commission of sorts."He nodded. "Gave me half the pay up front to recover a particular object."

"Must be extremely valuable," you commented. 

"Oh it is," Roberts mused. He paused for a moment, contemplating in silence, before continuing. 

"There's only one other like it in all the realms, and it's in the possession of the royal family."

Interest was starting to bloom across your face. Oh, how you'd missed treasure hunting.

"So...what is it?"

Roberts looked at you with his usual grin. "Only a select few of me crew are privy to this information. Can you keep a secret?"

You cocked a quizzical brow. "Then why tell me?" You said with slight suspicion.

"Well, you've got nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining forces with me, dearest. Plus, you don't seem the mutiny type."

He rolled onto his stomach, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders, gently pinning you to the bed. He brushed the loose strands of hair away from your tanned face and drew his fingers down your neck to your clavicle.

"The item in question," he started, his eyes casually addressing the contours of your bare body, "-was once part of a pair of seemingly mythical items. One of those items was found, many years ago, proving it's existence rightly enough." He brought his lips to your ear, lightly brushing your skin and causing slight jolts of electricity to course through your body. You shivered involuntarily and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your neck. "It is a stone, supposedly of immense beauty and unknown power, called the Heart of the Sea. It's counterpart is the Eye of the Storm, perhaps you've heard of it."

The name sounded vaguely familiar, and you recalled hearing a tale of how the fabled relic came to be discovered decades ago, after much bloodshed and wreckage of vessels at sea.

"And you know where it is?" You breathed, struggling to stop your mind from spinning as Roberts trailed his lips down your neck and chest, stopping at your navel.

"I've got an idea," he stated coyly. He brought his mouth back up towards yours, keeping his lips inches away. "But that's where your information halts, for now. Just figured I'd let you know the object of our current quest." He smiled, nipping at your lower lip. "And one more thing." He encircled the back of your neck with one hand and you peered into his shining emerald eyes. "It's sort of against my policy to shack up with my crew, so keep this between us if you would."

You looked at him, puzzled. "Shack up?"

He laughed, leaning back slightly. "Bed, make love, get drunk and fool around," he winked at you."-whatever it is you'd like to call it. Tends to sow jealousy and enmity among peers, it just never ends well. Someone always feels left out." He gave you one last pat on the head and rolled out of bed, picking his garments from the previous night off the floor and redressing himself. You clutched the sheets and brought them up around your chest, shielding yourself.

Lacing up his boots, he glanced at you. "We have a few days left at sea until we reach our destination, so get comfortable, fall in with the crew, and let me know of any questions you have."

You nodded, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and fidgeting slightly.

He smiled and headed for the door, taking care to close it without slamming it in its frame. Quickly, you hopped out of bed and redressed yourself, attempting to comb out the knots in your hair. You'd left your satchel- and your brush- out on deck the night before. After you'd assessed yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent looking, you made for the door.

Outside, you were greeted by the pint-sized crew member, his deeply tanned skin causing his already bright eyes to shine in the sun. 

"Oi, m'lady," he chirped. "The Cap'n 'as instructed me to show you around _Mary_ and introduce ya to everyone. He also says to give his condolences he ain't doin' it 'imself, as he hadda address a problem down below." He stuck out a hand at you. 

"Oh," you said, surprised. You took his hand and shook it. 

"Name's Merrill Cordroy. Most everyone jus' calls me Mouse."

"Ava Beaumont, you can call me either. Why do they call you that?"

He withdrew his hand to his front shirt pocket and fetched a dark ball of fur, outstretching his hand to show you the tiny, beady eyed creature curled up in his palm. You took an instinctive step back, but watched with interest as you saw the rodent's chest vibrate with quick, shallow breaths as it slept.

"Alright then, Mouse. Nice to officially meet you," you smiled, keeping your distance. Rodents and pests weren't usually a welcome sight on a vessel at sea. 

Mouse grabbed your hand and took off at a running pace towards the ship's bow. Struggling to keep up, he tugged your hand harder, encouraging you to break into a dash alongside him. Up the stairs and to the helm was the first stop on your tour. 

"This here's where the Captain and other members of the crew steer the ship. He 'as me do it sometimes, 'specially cuz I got good eyes." You smiled, and so did Mouse. He grabbed your hand and raced off to another destination, all the while pointing out deckhands and their names. 

"That there's Maven, and Margie, over there is Javier and that lady there is just 'the crone' cuz nobody knows her name cuz she dun got her tongue cut out ages ago but she makes a mean pot of goat stew and-" Mouse went on like this for what seemed like hours, zipping about the upper decks and lower, even scampering up to the crows nest to show off his climbing skills. You didn't mind; the boy was a spitfire, so full of energy it was contagious. Plus, he beamed whenever you acted impressed, and you didn't have to act much. 

You were just admiring Mouse swinging from mast to mast amidst the cordage, when a voice startled you from behind.

"Lunchtime!" It called, and you spun around to see Tolliver with a wooden basket and a flagon of wine. 

"Care to join me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hope the boy wasn't too hard on ya today."

"Not at all," you chuckled. "He was actually rather....exhilarating," you struggled to find the right word.

"Aye, he's a good lad. Joined me crew when he was just six years old." You stopped drinking mid sip and widened your eyes. "Is that so? Where are his parents?"

Roberts retrieved a sandwich from the woven basket, cured meats and fresh vegetables between two very thick slices of white bread.

"From what I've gathered-" he said between bites "-he lost them some years before I crossed his path. He'd been living on the streets, thieving for petty criminals in exchange for food and shelter. The mice were his only friends before he joined up. Had a hell of a time convincing the Captain then to let him keep them."

"Oh." You looked down at your own sandwich, feeling the struggles of your own childhood pale in comparison to almost everyone you met around you.

"So how long have you been Captain?"

He smiled and gently swiped the wine from your grasp, taking a swig. "Not sure, I lost count. A few years," he said, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Before you could ask him what that meant, you were interrupted by a call of "Land-ho!"

Tolliver stood up and shielded his eyes against the sun. Sure enough, a speck of land had appeared on the horizon to the west.

"That can't be it, can it?" You asked, incredulous. According to Roberts earlier, there was still nearly a weeks' journey ahead of them.

"Merely a stop along the road to our destination, lass. A quick excursion when morning comes, and we'll be back on track." He finished his sandwich and packed up the basket, plucking the empty wine bottle from the wooden boards of the viewing deck at the rear of the ship. 

"We've got an early day ahead of us tomorrow, should probably catch some shut-eye while we can." He strolled to the edge pf the deck and hopped down with long-legged precision, turning to offer you help. You took his hand and he lowered you to the deck, deftly sweeping your long hair behind your shoulders. 

"What do you say, love, shall we retire now?" 

You scanned the horizon, squinting against the neon of the setting sun. 

"Aye," you replied, skin shivering as Roberts took your hand. You caught a glimpse of Mouse staring at you with a grim expression, and you waved as the door shut behind you, wondering for a brief moment if you had hurt his feelings in some way by going off with Tolliver.

 

 

You felt light fingers caress your shoulders, and his lips were once again at your ear. 

"May I?" He asked, as he shrugged off your coat and hung it on a coat rack, quite ceremoniously compared to the previous night's incident. From behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began unlacing your bodice, both hands working nimbly and gently. You stared at his left hand in curiosity, for the first time realizing that he had both hands. It was a heady tonic, and your mind blanched for a moment as you remembered Killian wasn't there. You took a deep breath, and exhaled your thoughts of him. You felt your bodice come undone and slip to the floor.

"Interesting..." Tolliver mused, and you felt long fingers trace from your spine to your shoulder blades, all the way down to the small of your back. Suddenly aware that he had never seen your scars before, you hugged your arms around your body and tried to turn to face him. He stopped you, gripping your shoulders and pressing your back to him.

"I-I forgot I had them for a while," you stammered, embarrassed and ashamed. "I'm sorry, I know they're-"

"Hush now. They're beautiful. Just like you," he whispered, and set about pressing his lips to the raised flesh spiderwebbing across the span of your shoulders. 

"Very interesting," you heard him mutter under his breath.


	26. A Quaint Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alright! First time in well over a YEAR I've written anything new for this fic! I have future chapters written, but I'm currently just trying to bridge the gaps. Trying to get back into the swing of it! I've missed these characters <3 _
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You woke the next morning to the distant echo of minstrel music and the faint, oakey smell of woodfire. Tolliver had risen moments before you, and was lacing up his breeches when he noticed you stir. 

“G'morning, lass!!” He beamed, his tanned skin crinkling at the corners of his bright eyes. 

“Morning,” you replied groggily, stretching your arms over your head. You looked around curiously. “Did we drop anchor?”

“Indeed, we did!” His voice was muffled as he pulled a thin white shirt over his head. He didn't bother to lace up the deep V of the neckline, exposing his sun-drenched collarbone and a hint of his defined sternum.  
“Just a quick re-supply stop, and I have some other business to attend to. No need to rouse yourself, you can stay here if you'd like.” He gave you a quick wink. “I'd very much appreciate being greeted by this sight when I return.”  
He crossed to where you sat, swathed in sheets, and leaned over, taking your jaw gently in his rough hands. He pressed his lips against yours, and you inhaled the warm, salty scent of his skin.  
“I'll be back before you know it. Keep the bed warm for me, alright? I intend to remain there for the remainder of our daylight, upon my return.”

An involuntary shiver coursed through your abdomen and you stifled a smile, kneading the sheets with your fingers in anticipation. 

With a final brilliant smile, he eased the door shut behind him, and you flopped back onto the bed, massaging your tired eyes with the palms of your hands. For the first time in a long time, you were actually happy. 

The sunlight threw itself across the room as the sun rose higher in the sky, and you decided it was time to get up. Throwing on some clothes, you made to the deck, curious about the island that the _Bloody Mary_ had landed upon.

__You pressed the cabin door open and were immediately greeted by a warm breeze, washing across your skin and dancing through your loose hair. The sun shone brightly through crystal clear skies, and the water shimmered like scattered jewels all around you. It was a beautiful day._ _

__You scanned the island in front of you, its verdant foliage adorning the edges of the white-sanded beaches. Small structures dotted cobblestone streets further up the island, and an absolutely divine smell was wafting through the air. You looked down as your stomach rumbled and, after days of dried jerky and overripe oranges, decided it was time for a proper breakfast. You'd be back before Tolliver noticed, or even better yet, maybe you'd meet up with him on the island._ _

__You grabbed your coin purse, tucking it snugly into the inside pocket of your coat before skipping down the gangplank and onto brand new soil._ _

__Your boots shifted in the soft sand, and you couldn't hide the smile stretching across your face. This is why you did it. This is why you'd left home in the first place, to discover new lands, and see sights like this._ _

__The sand transitioned to smooth stone, and your boots clopped against the sturdy ground. Following the savory scent from earlier, you found yourself inside a market plaza. Vendors were strewn across the open space, selling everything you could imagine, and some things you just couldn't fathom. The smell from earlier hadn't been just one thing, but a mixture of all the foods on the island. Huge hunks of pink and brown meats hung from wooden skewers, accompanied by vibrantly colored platters of curious fruits and foreign vegetables. You opted for a reddish, heart shaped fruit and a tender lamb kebob, audibly sighing as the meat seemed to melt in your mouth._ _

__You took your meal to go, lazily making your way down the colorful streets and eyeing the strange wares set up in the windows of the numerous shops. Something caught your eye at one of the jewelry vendors, a flash of silver and gold dangling from an intricate chain. Curious, you fingered the charms, a hand carved skull and a dagger, its hilt tapering into three fleur-de-lis. An identical twin to the necklace that Killian Jones sported. You froze, breath hitching in your throat._ _

__“Everything okay, miss?” A small voice came from behind you, and you spun around._ _

__“Yes, of course,” you breathed, shaking your head to clear your mind. “This piece,” you murmured, gesturing towards the asymmetrical links of the chain. “May I ask where you acquired it?”_ _

__The clerk was a young woman, with reddish hair and a spattering of freckles across her rather fair complexion. “Of course,” she spoke softly. “Usually, our pieces don't have much of a history, as we forge them ourselves, but on occasion, things are...bartered or traded to us. This one in particular was actually recovered from the wreckage of a beached vessel about a week ago. The craftsmanship, the melding of the gold and silver alloys are quite superb-”_ _

__Your rigid expression caused her to falter, and she tilted her slender chin in worry._ _

___”Where was this recovered from?”_ You spoke lowly. You tapped a nail against the silver charms, wondering if this could _possibly_ be the same necklace that had been draped around Killian's person. _ _

__“Uhm,” the clerk chewed on her lower lip, slowly stepping back from your tense form. “About a day north of here. It's just a beach, there was nothing else there except a few mangled boards. Whatever happened, there's not much left.”_ _

__You snatched the chain into your fingers, thrusting a handful of gold coins into the palm of the frightened clerk._ _

__“Miss, this is too-”_ _

__“Keep the change,” you said gruffly as you stormed out of the storefront._ _

___Killian._ _ _

__

__You slid the necklace over your head, twisting the charms between your fingers._ _

__

__An odd calm washed over you as you tore briskly through the streets of the island. Your heart wasn't beating nearly as hard as it should have been. What if he was hurt? What if that had been the remains of the _Jolly Roger_? Had she been sunk? Was there a storm? Enemy pirates?_ _

__

__Your hazy eyes caught a flash of platinum glinting against the harsh sun, and you turned to your left. A familiar voice carried on the light breeze, lower in tone than you were used to. You weren't sure why, but you halted in your tracks, slipping behind a wooden support of the nearby tavern the voices were coming from. Something just felt....wrong._ _

__

__“...going as planned. Better, even.” The casual voice tapered off, and you could just picture the brilliant smile that surely followed that sentence._ _

__

__“So, you have her trust?” An older, rickety voice inquired, and the sound sent an uneasiness shooting through your spine. Where had you heard that voice before?_ _

__

__“Oh, I have more than that.” Another dazzling smile, you were sure._ _

__

“The gods have surely smiled upon us. After all these months, finally, a sign! I'm still in shock that she just stumbled across your path.”

“I assure you, magistrate, it was hardly divine providence. My crew and I spent months pinpointing her location. She's a slippery one, for sure. I had to make sure she came with me of her own accord, make it _her_ idea.” 

Your heart slammed into your ribcage. They were talking about you. 

He'd been lying to you. Tolliver was lying. 

You fought to swallow the bile that surged its way into your throat, clamping a hand against your mouth to stop an involuntary whimper. 

__

__

__

You peered though a slat in the window, taking measured breaths to assure you weren't heard. Squinting, you saw Tolliver seated across from a silver haired gentleman, his back facing you. He was dressed in a royal blue coat, shoulders decorated with gold trim. It was only when he leaned forward to shake Roberts' hand and turn to the side when you recognized him. 

Your breath died in your lungs, and you stumbled back, turning on your heel and sprinting back towards the port. 

No. 

__

No. _No._

__

 

__

You clambered up the steps of the gangplank and onto the smooth boards of the _Bloody Mary_ , uneven breaths tearing through your lungs. You ripped open the door to Tolliver's cabin, shoving your few belongings into your satchel and hoisting it over your shoulder. Marching across the deck, back towards land, a small voice piped up from above you.

__

__“Where ya goin', miss?”_ _

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__You twisted around, hand flexing towards the cutlass at your hip before twitching to a sudden halt._ _

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__“You. You knew didn't you?” You breathed at Mouse, his wide eyes staring at you curiously, feet dangling from the rail above the forecabin. He was silent._ _

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__“That's why you always looked so conflicted. You _knew_ ,” you seethed, not feeling remorse for spitting at the young boy. _ _

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__“I liked ya, miss,” he finally spoke. “Cap'n said not ta get attached or nuthin', but yur pretty and nice and all the things that make people like ya.”_ _

__

__“I liked you, too,” you said softly._ _

__

__“'N it's cuz I like ya that I say my apologies, miss. As I was a distraction.” He hopped down from his post and took your hand in his small fingers, planting a swift kiss across your tense knuckles._ _

__

__“If it isn't Miss Ava Beaumont,” the amicable voice called out from behind you, and a lean arm snaked its way around your waist. “Thought I told ya to be keep the bed warm for me?”_ _

__


	27. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello again! So I've been getting a surprising amount (not that much, but enough for me to notice) of attention on this fic as of late, which makes me happy because it was my first real fic that I posted! And I'm still writing it lol xD Thank you guys for everything, your kudos and comments really mean the world to me. Keep on keeping on, my dudes <3 _
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You struggled against the chain that shackled you to the thick wooden post of Tolliver's bedframe, wrenching your wrist back and forth. Your legs were splayed across the smooth grain of the floorboards, and your coat and weapons had been removed. 

“You're not getting out of that, Avery. Reinforced steel cuffs, reinforced post bolted directly into the deck.” He shrugged his shoulders casually, taking a seat on the plush mattress above you. He narrowed his eyes. “That a new necklace?”

“You lying son of a bitch,” you spat at him, slapping his leg with your free hand. 

“Manners, manners,” he tutted at you. “Or would you like me to cuff the other hand too? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.” He caught your wrist in his hand, sliding off the bed and onto your level with a melodramatic shake of his head.   
“And who really lied to who first? 'Ava Beaumont'? That's hardly different from your real name. I almost slipped up right there. For as crafty as I was told you were, you're not very imaginative.”

You tried ripping your hand from his grasp, but he held tight. 

“Why'd you have to make this difficult? I thought we were having a nice time.”

“You _lied_ to me.”

He pursed his lips. “Yes, we've established that.”

You tossed your head back, shutting your eyes as you purposely banged you head against the wall. 

“How long have you been working for that cretin?” You moaned, remembering the twisted face of the Magistrate Corell, his hooked nose and beady eyes burned into the memories of your nightmares. He presided over all the Seer ceremonies, sometimes carving the runes into the flesh of children himself. 

“Stop that,” he snapped, gripping your neck in his other hand and stilling it. You seized your opportunity and jerked your head forward as he leaned close, smacking his forehead straight on with yours.   
Stars exploded across your vision, and he crumpled back in surprise, releasing you.

“Ow,” you whined. “Gods, that hurts.”

He rubbed his forehead, arching a fair brow at you. “That didn't get you anywhere.”

“Nope, but I feel better,” you hissed, turning away from him and leaning against the smooth wall. 

“We could've had another week of peaceful freedom together, Avery,” he said softly, and you felt a pang in your chest. “We still can, if you comply.”

“You're sick,” you stated flatly, trying to shove the memories of his bare body, of his soft lips against your own, out of your mind. You were chained to the very object you had spent so many hours laying with him on, and it made you want to vomit. Ashamedly, you averted your gaze.

He sighed. “You gave me very little choice.”

“'Very little choice'?” You screeched, and you swatted at him once again with your hand, kicking out your legs as he retreated from your reach. 

You panted, eyes wide, and you felt moisture start to pool at the corners of your eyes, and you cursed yourself for getting so worked up. You weren't sad; you were furious. These tears were not necessary. 

“You didn't have to sleep with me,” you growled, voice breaking towards the end. 

He cocked his head to the side. “That's a two-way street, darlin'. You didn't exactly say no. You fell for my, what did you call it? My 'prettyboy act'? Hook, line, and goddamn sinker. I made you feel special, and that's all you really want, isn't it? For someone to make you feel special?”

“Get away from me.”

“Stop being a child. How long did you think you could run from them? You're lucky it was me who found you, and not one of the countless other bounty hunters. You are aware that your face is plastered all over the realm, are you not?”

“Oh yes, _lucky_ me,” you grumbled, eyes willing a hole to appear in the floor. 

“Honestly, Avery,” he sighed. “Have some sense of responsibility. They're your family. Of course they're worried about you.”

“They're not _worried_ about _me_ ,” you muttered. “They're worried about their stupid legacy, their dead _traditions_.”

“There are those who still believe the gods will send another,” he whispered. 

You were silent. You had nothing else to say to this traitor. 

“Avery, will you just look at me?”

You stared straight ahead, clasping your hands together slowly in defiance. 

“Alright, it's evident you need some time-” you scoffed, flipping your hair behind your ear, and causing him to falter, “-some _time_ ,” he repeated again sternly. “I'll have dinner for you in a few hours. Until then, please don't try to escape, hm? We're in the middle of the ocean, and I've already ordered the crew to have the lifeboats locked down. Even if you manage to slip the cuffs, which I'm sure you will, you've nowhere to go. Which is why I suggest, _once again_ , to be compliant. Be good, and maybe I won't have to keep you locked up, okay? It brings me very little pleasure.” He stood to his feet and you felt his gaze linger on you a bit too long. “Well, maybe it gives me a little bit of pleasure,” he joked as he turned to the door. 

“Liar,” you breathed once again, after he'd left. 

_Killian, I never should've left you._

 

 

The light filtering through the porthole began to wane and, as Roberts had promised, dinner arrived. Mouse crept through the door with alarming stealth, and you hadn't realized he had placed a plate of steak and vegetables, with a healthy hunk of bread, beside you, until he had slipped away. You kicked the plate away, feeling mildly satisfied as green peas rolled across the floorboards and the meat splattered in the middle of the room, dripping brown gravy as it slid to its resting place. 

Roberts entered the cabin about an hour later, stopping to stare at the wasted food decorating his floor. 

“I'm glad we're being civilized about this,” he mused, and stooped to collect the debris onto the chipped tray. He left to discard the remains and returned a brief moment later, removing his shirt and tossing it across the room, at your feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked in disgust, kicking one leg out and leaning against your elbow. 

He raised a brow. “What do you think? This is my cabin, I'm going to sleep.”

“You're just...going to sleep in the bed that I'm currently a prisoner of?”

“Well, you could join me, if you'd like,” he winked and started unlacing his breeches.

“No. Nuh-uh. If you're going to be sleeping a foot away from me, you are keeping your goddamn pants on, Roberts.”

An absurd expression flickered across his features, and he lifted a finger to point at himself. “Hi, I'm Tolliver Roberts, _Captain_ of this here fine vessel, and you are?” He placed a flat hand behind his ear, pretending to listen to something. You rolled your eyes. “Aye, that's right. The pretty little captive I have trussed up in my bedchambers.”

He got to his knees to face you, stretching his fingers to the reinforced cuffs encircling the post and your wrist. 

“What are you-” you stammered in surprise, as he jammed a tiny key into the lock and popped open the cuff attaching you to the post.

He took your face in his hand, roughly shoving his lips against yours and you cried out in surprise, scuttling backwards and trying to press yourself as far into the wooden wall as you could. Suddenly, he pulled you forward, snaking your other arm around the bedframe and slammed the metal bracelet around your other wrist, effectively imprisoning you and limiting your mobility. 

“What the hell was that for!?” You spat, trying to wipe your mouth, but unable to pull your hand up that far. 

“I'm a foot away from you, you think I'd leave you free to strangle me in my sleep?”

“This is ridiculous. I'm not going back, and chaining me to _your bed_ is not going to change that.”

He flopped onto the bed, propping himself up onto his elbows, face just above yours. 

“Are you very much done with your squabbling? We have a long few days ahead of us.”

You huffed, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't happening. You lay on your side, wrists linked together, and stretched your legs out behind you. 

“You know,” you started, intent on agitating him. “I actually prefer this to your bed. The splinters make for much better company.”

You heard a shallow laugh come from above you, and it caused your stomach to twist. It sounded odd and unnatural in comparison to Tolliver's usually jovial disposition. 

“I know you enjoyed me just as much as I enjoyed you, Avery.”

You gagged.

“In fact,” he continued slowly, flipping onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “I'll bet the reason you're so upset with me is that you're _ashamed_ at how much you enjoyed it, and you're wishing it didn't have to end.”

“I'd rather scrape my eyes out with barnacles.”

“Touchy, touchy,” he clucked. You heard the rustle of blankets come from above you as he shifted to his side, peering at you from over the edge of the bed. 

“You have a gift, Avery. There are many who would give everything they have just to have the chance that you've been given.”

“You think I asked for this? That I wanted _this_!?” You bolted to an upright position, slamming your wrists together in an attempt to break the thick wooden post, to no avail. “You think I wanted my flesh carved, over and over again, while I stood naked in front of the disappointed gazes of strangers and my family alike? Do you think I _liked_ not being able to give them what they wanted?” Your voice was strained, and you struggled to hold back the tears pricking at the corners of your lids. “When I wasn't good enough, they elected to... _test_ my younger siblings, when they come of age. Even though the damn _gift_ is only supposed to be bestowed upon a first born. Something I had no control over- _that_ was my greatest failure.”

Roberts had fallen silent, but you didn't care. Exhausted by your sudden outbreak, you let yourself melt back into the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your forehead against the slats of the wooden floor. 

“They can bloody well have it,” you muttered, feeling your arms dangle limply above you as the bed-frame shifted. An aching blackness ebbed across the back of your eyelids, and you prayed for sleep to take you. Your quest for freedom had just been an illusion; no matter where you went, the inevitable truth was that something always caged you. You were sick of it, sick of others dictating your actions. Your family, the Court of the High Priest, Blackbeard, hell, even Killian—they all acted as if they knew your fate better than yourself. You'd come to reject fate, denounce it, even, though its' ugly truth just wouldn't leave you be.

Next time, you would just have to go further.


	28. The One Where You're Still On a Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Well, happy belated New Year everyone! I'll keep this brief: This year has already sucked pretty badly for a whole lotta people, but I feel like it's turning around. For some, like myself, at least. So, best of luck and fortune to everybody out there. I hope we do our best to help 2020 become a great year, I honestly do. Talk about a rough start. *insert part where I say I'll start uploading more often and then never actually commit to a consistent schedule blah blahh*_
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> _I've missed you guys. As always, I hope you enjoy!_
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> _P.S  
>  For a HookxReader, there hasn't been a lot of Hook here lately, has there?!!? Well, that should be rectified shortly... ;) _
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Sometime during the night, Roberts must have tucked a soft down-feather pillow beneath your unconscious head, because you awoke to the smooth feeling of warm cotton caressing your cheek instead of salt-soaked floorboards. Still hazy, you nuzzled your face into the incredibly supple material, inhaling the briny, sweet scent of its owner. 

_Tolliver…_

Your eyes snapped wide open and you wrenched your neck upwards and away from the damned object, the previous days' events flooding back into your mind in a painful torrent. Shifting your body, you kicked out your leg, sending the pillow hurtling violently towards the opposite end of the room. It bounced harmlessly off the slated wall and fell to the floor in a muffled _plop_. You glared at the infernal lump of spongy comfort, attempting to rid your senses of the now-unbearable stench of Tolliver. 

Curse the goose who supplied those feathers.

Curse the weaver who wove that stupid pillowcase.

And curse the shriveled excuse for a man that dared toy with you, and goddamnit why does he smell so _good_ -

A sudden sound tore you from your rushing thoughts. The ship lunged forward, and the violent action flung you to the side, your skull connecting with the wooden bedpost with a sickening _crack._

“Shit!” You cried out, trying in vain to keep your voice hushed. 

The hull seemed to creak to a halt; footsteps thundered across the deck outside, the vibrations causing your cuffs to jangle ever so slightly. The motion was strange and oddly melancholic after the sudden pitch, and you were vaguely aware of voices yelling across the rushing of your blood, pounding in your head. 

“We've run aground!”

“Aground? There's nothing there! Must've hit a reef.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you heard the smug voice drawl, drifting faintly from somewhere on deck. "It seems we've arrived."

Disgust. 

_Disgust is what that voice makes me feel._

Words swam in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut against a warm, sticky feeling trickling from somewhere above your right brow. 

“Captain?!”

“Patience, everyone. The location is spot on, we're just a bit early, is all. I'm sure I don't need to explain the tides to you lot. Get the hull free, and then I suggest you take this opportunity to grab some shuteye. At first light, we go treasure huntin'.” The uncertain mumbles from the crew quickly erupted into hearty cheers, and the thudding of boots once again shook the deck as the crew raced to drop anchor and secure the sails. 

The ship stood still in the water, the soft waves lapping at the hull in a rhythmic manner that was directly conflicting with the commotion outside. 

The door pushed open, and you squinted one eye towards the reddish-orange light of the setting sun. A murky silhouette leapt into the room, and although most of his features were marred by the bright light shining behind him, his dazzling white smile could be seen clear as day. 

“Avery, are you up for behaving? I'd like to show you somethi-” his words cut off abruptly, and you tried to wipe the gash above your brow on your sleeve. 

“Go away,” you mumbled, head still swaying from the impact. 

A few long, quick strides and he reached you. Despite your protests, he knelt down in front of you, gently taking your face in one of his rough hands.

“I said-”

“Knock it off, let me look at you.” He tilted your head to the side, brushing back your hair with his fingers. You felt a sharp pain as several strands of hair pulled through the cut, but you didn't flinch. Something about the tone of his voice, his vernacular, contrasted starkly with what you'd grown accustomed too. It may have just been the head injury, but it seemed like the lilt in his voice had gone flat.

“Right, one sec.”

He got up, releasing your chin, and you shook your head in contempt, immediately regretting the motion as the room seemed to lurch to the side. 

"Why does your voice sound funny?"

“Can you just keep still?” Tolliver was back in front of you, gently dabbing at your forehead with a damp cloth. "How do you manage to endanger yourself even when you're chained up?”

You scoffed, angling your head away from him. “How do you manage to drive your ship so poorly,” you grumbled, failing to think of a witty comeback. _It's okay. He doesn't really deserve one, does he?_

The pounding in your head had begun to subside, and the cool cloth against your skin had done wonders to pull you back into your current reality.

“I really wish you'd perk up just a bit. We've made a breakthrough on our current quest.” Another dazzling smile, and your stomach flipped in revolt.

“So why don't you just go and leave me out of it?” You retorted, coating your words with as much disdain as you could muster. 

“On the contrary, I rather hoped you'd join us! As was the previous plan. Despite what you may think, not much has changed.” He kept a healthy distance between the two of you, almost fully extending his arm to apply a light pressure to the shallow wound gracing your hairline. Without explanation, Roberts' voice had returned to it's usual lighthearted and melodic tone.

You locked eyes with him. “You're insane,” you stated bluntly, and you turned your head away, blocking his access. He sighed, yet again, and let his arm fall to his side. 

“Avery, you're young. You're still figuring out how the world works, and as crazy as it may seem to you at the time...I'm someone you can trust.” He was met with a hollow scoff, accompanied by a murderous glare. You heard a rustling sound as Tolliver retrieved a small thin object from the ground beside him, and you watched in mild curiosity as he peeled back the opaque film from an oblong, tan object that resembled a parchment of some sort. Once again taking your jaw in one hand, he gently tilted your face towards him, brushing back your hair and lifting the strange object to your temple. 

You flinched back. “What is that?” You said slowly, wary of anything Tolliver had to offer you. 

“I've been traveling for a long time, Avery, and I've encountered many strange and wondrous things.” A mysterious glint appeared in his emerald eyes, and you narrowed yours. He exhaled dramatically, as it was clear that you weren't indulging anymore of his tales. “It's a bandage, lass, now let me apply it so I can stop the bleeding. You are a terrible patient.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he pressed the adhesive material to your skin, pressing his fingers gently against your forehead for a few seconds to ensure the wound had begun to clot. 

Once he retrieved his hand, you stretched yours up to the bandage, slightly curious about its' smooth, almost flesh-like feel. It wasn't any material you had ever encountered before. Which wasn't saying much, you admitted to yourself. There's a lot you probably weren't familiar with. 

“There.” Tolliver nodded and got back to his feet. “You'll live. Now, care to join me on deck? I need your word you won't try anything stupid.”

“If I made that promise, I want you to know that it wouldn't be sincere.”

“Hm.” He fished through the pockets of his trousers, locating a small silver key that glinted in the low light. Kneeling before you, once again, he popped the key into into the cuffs, unlocking them one at a time, until they clanged to the floorboards beneath. Cautiously, you rubbed your wrists, being tender with the chafed skin. 

“Trust goes both ways,” he said lowly, that unnerving tone of solemn sincerity echoing in his words. For a moment, the air felt cold, and you braced yourself against an involuntary shiver. 

"Because I'm the one that violated our trust and chained myself to a bed, right?" The tension hovered in the air, and it seemed even the tide grew silent for a moment.

As quickly as the mood had changed, it changed again. A lighthearted smile reappeared on Tolliver's lips, and he stretched back to his toes, extending his hand towards your still seated form. 

“Bygones! Now, shall we? I think you'll find this rather intriguing.”

 

You didn't taken his hand, but you rose unsteadily to your feet, willing the blood flow back into your legs. You nodded uncertainly, motioning for Tolliver to lead the way. He beamed.

“That's my girl!” He bounded to the door, throwing it open, and gesturing for you to walk through. 

Hesitantly, you plodded passed the over-eager pirate captain, and onto the now moon-drenched deck. Most of the deck hands had gone below, but there were a few bodies still meandering about the prow. 

He led you to the railing, overlooking the starboard side of the Bloody Mary. The cool night air was refreshing on your skin, and you reveled in the moment as it whipped through your tangled hair, reminding you so much of the first night you embarked on this adventure. You reflected, only for a moment, on how far you had come. You'd braved pirates, and battles, and looters. You'd seen things you only could've dreamed of in your old life. 

And now…

And now, in only a few short days, you would be delivered right back into the gnarled hands of your sheltered, past life. The thought alone was enough to constrict your lungs, and labor your breathing. 

As you looked out upon the vast expanse of velvet night, of shattered stars draped across ocean and sky alike, you realized that your nights like these were numbered. Tenderly, you curled your fingers against the smooth rail, feeling the waning echoes of the suns' warmth ebb from the aged wood.

Tolliver was pointing out something a few yards from the bow, but you weren't listening. You had tuned out his voice, and let the soothing howl of the wind embrace your every sense, eyes shut against the world, and just let your spirit dance among the night. 

This was a feeling you never wanted to let go of. 

“Avery? _Avery?_ ” You felt a disturbance in the air to your left, and you realized that Tolliver was waving his hand in front of your face. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, the briny wind alighting with small tears, untouched by the chill of your cheeks. “Are you even listening to me?”

“No,” you replied bluntly, briefly wiping at yours eyes. Tolliver stared at you for a moment, and you felt your cheeks redden, in annoyance. “Uh, what were you saying?”

“Oof, your blatant disregard does just give me chills,” he laughed warmly, catching a flyaway strand of your hair between his thumb and forefinger. After a moment, he dropped his hand and extended it beyond the rail. “Do you see that shape, protruding from the water a little ways out? It's a tree, in the middle of the ocean. A marker, really, as I'm sure it's long been dead.” 

Sure enough, as you squinted your eyes against the stinging breeze, you could just begin to make out the spindly branches of a dead tree, rising maybe about four feet above the rippling surface. 

“That seems...rather impossible,” you muttered, disheartened to indulge Tolliver, yet also feeling a moderate sense of curiosity beginning to blossom deep within you. “There's no land. Surely, it must be the remnants of a wreck? Perhaps a pile of driftwood.”

He smiled, that damned sense that he had gotten through to you, permeating the air. “Perhaps.” He feigned a yawn, stretching his tanned arms over his head, and draping one over your shoulder. “We'll find out tomorrow. I'm retiring now, if you'd care to join me?”

Your jaw dropped open. “You've got to be joking.”

He shrugged. “Do what you want, Avery. There's nowhere to go, and I would prefer to keep an eye on you. While I believe there is honor among thieves, and choose my crew accordingly, the price for your return has become...rather substantial. I'd hate for it to get into one of me mates' heads to collect that reward single-handedly.” He withdrew his arm and brushed passed you, making for his cabin. “And how I lament the thought of another man whisking you away in the night,” he added, back already turned to you. 

You stood there, dumbfounded at the utter absurdity of the situation you had found yourself in. Sure, you could take care of yourself, but unless you slept on-deck, the only other place to wait out the night would be the crew's quarters, and...you weren't sure you wanted to invite whatever misfortunes that might bring. The crew already made you uneasy.

“Damnit,” you growled, clenching your fists at your side, and marching behind Tolliver, right back into the cabin that had been your, albeit temporary, prison. 

“You never cease to amaze,” he tossed over his shoulder heartily as he swung the door open and held it for you. You stomped by him, and made for the bed, ripping a blanket from upon the mattress, and grabbing the pillow that still lay on the floor on the opposite side of the room. You set up a makeshift bed in the corner, plopping down and burying yourself in the thick fabric.

“Avery,” Tolliver said, not sounding too amused. “Just take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor, if it means that much to you.”

“Piss off,” you sang, your voice muffled. You got a small amount of satisfaction as you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath, and settle onto the bed. 

An unexpected veil of drowsiness enveloped you, and your lids became heavy. Your head still ached from where you had hit it against the post, but the pain had begun to ebb away. The whirlwind of emotions that had plagued you these passed few days had taken a toll you hadn't realized, and you sunk graciously into the depths of unconsciousness. 

It was nice not to be chained up anymore, at least.

Tomorrow, you would plot your escape.


	29. A Rainbow of Opportunity

Dappled light shone in from the porthole window above, and you tried to blink away the golden ray that was focused directly on your eyes. Sighing in defeat, you leaned forward, shaking your head and fluffing out the tangled mess that your hair had become lately. You hadn't had access to your comb for a few days, as your personal effects had been held from you, and honestly, you hadn't really felt the need to ask for it. Thick blankets swathed your legs, and the warmth of the bed was so inviting that you didn't want to get up-

Bed.

You blinked several times.

Bed? 

Your eyes darted to the corner of the cabin that you had fallen asleep in just a few hours earlier. Wrapped in a single thin sheet, Tolliver's slumbering form rested peacefully on the floor, his bare shoulders pressed against the wooden wall.

You took a moment of stunned solace, before hurling a pillow across the room, hitting Tolliver squarely in his stupid face.

“Wha-?!?” He jolted awake, hands darting to his side as he fumbled for an imaginary weapon. “Ah.”

Relaxing his shoulders, he slumped against the wall, tousling his sun-bleached hair with a tanned hand. 

“Mornin'!” He smiled broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his trademark grin. 

You snorted in derision, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed, still fully clothed from the day before. You shifted your gaze to the opposite side of the room as the half-naked Roberts stretched his arms over his head, accompanied by a wide, and unnecessarily loud yawn.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” You asked drily, re-lacing your boots, as they had become loose sometime during the night.

“Well, don't you look well-rested,” Roberts replied slyly. 

“How did you even do that?” You muttered bitterly, not wanting to think about Roberts moving your unconscious form. Or touching you _at all_ , for that matter. 

“With elegance and chivalrous grace,” he bowed his head, adding a quick flourish with both hands in mock reverence. “And the crew never waits on me. I decide when we move.” He pointed to himself. “Captain.”

“Good way to invoke a mutiny,” you grumbled under your breath, knowing full well that his crew would never retaliate against the seemingly good-natured pirate captain. 

He ignored that. “And don't you mean 'Don't _we_ have somewhere to be?'” He leapt to his feet and made his way towards the wardrobe, pulling a thin, salt-stained tunic from the oaken drawers. 

“You want me to come with you on your quest to retrieve a mythical gemstone from...where exactly?”

Tolliver pulled the shirt over his head, his mysterious smile coming through the neck of the garment. 

“Well, I'm not going to just leave you on this ship. Who knows what you would do to her?”

“As your prisoner, do I even have a say?”

“'Prisoner?'” He clutched his chest, feigning mortal insult. “Would you like me to answer that question honestly?”

“Yeah, I didn't think so.”

He crossed the room, to where you sat on the bed, and tousled your hair. You swatted his hand away in annoyance, trying to comb your fingers through the chaotic mess, to little avail. 

“Come on.” He extended his hand towards you, his bright green eyes sparkling in to the golden light of dawn. “Now that we have daylight on our side, I'd like to see what the tides have washed up for us, and, I think, so would you.” 

You stared at him sternly, absolutely refusing to accept the gesture. 

 

Yes, you would go with him, but not for the reason he would think. Maybe he would suspect, but he would be naive to expect otherwise, and Tolliver was no simpleton. 

 

You rose to your feet, finally breaking eye contact, and pushed passed him to get to the door. 

“I still don't understand what you're expecting to do here. Are you going to cast a line into the open ocean and hope the gem takes the bait, and bites?” You shoved the door open, walking out into the warm breeze of morning. “I mean, honestly, it makes no-” You stopped dead in your tracks, halfway through the doorframe, jaw hanging open on your last word. “What in the…”

Tolliver crept up behind you, taking the door from your grasping, and pushing you forward the couple steps to the deck. “You were saying, love?”

“Don't call me 'love',” you whispered, eyes wide as you scanned the scene in front of you. Roughly ten yards from the ship protruded a hunk of mossy rock, about the size of the main cabin of the _Bloody Mary_. The majority of the surface was flat, save for a rocky outcropping towering about the height of two grown men stacked on top of eachother, adorned with the wispy limbs of what you'd thought to have been a dead tree the previous evening. 

It was very much alive. A rainbow of what must be lichen, or some other ethereal moss-like plantlife clung to every inch of what you could see of the tree bark. A shimmer of blues, purples, reds and oranges- every color you had ever seen was etched into the bark of the tree's slight frame, glittering like iridescent jewels in the dawning light of the sun. 

“I want to see it.” The words slipped passed your lips before you could even develop a coherent thought, and you hardly cared as you felt Roberts snicker behind you. He gripped your shoulder firmly, shaking you with restrained excitement. 

“Me too.” He sounded like a schoolchild, giddy at the sight of seeing a knight for the first time, or developing his first crush. 

He whirled you around to face him, a wide smile plastered across his ageless face. 

“Avery,” he spoke earnestly, the gleam in his eye brighter than you had ever seen it before. “Just for this quest, will you be able to forgive me the last few days? This is nothing like how I wanted it to turn out. I wanted you here, wholly by my side as we took on this quest. I've spent years trying to find this place, and now-now I've finally begun to see the fruits of my labor.” He was becoming breathless as he spoke, and it was unnerving seeing him so off-center. You were sure of how you looked to him right now- eyes wide, brows arched in deserved skepticism.

But you couldn't deny the curiosity that plagued you. Maybe…

Maybe just for the day. This one day. You would have this quest, and then you could continue on your own journey, to escape from Tolliver and find….

To escape from this ship, and the fate that awaited you at its' future destination, and find Killian. 

_Killian._

Your eyes snapped back into focus, and you frowned inwardly. 

You didn't even know if he was alive. On instinct, you caressed the charms around your neck lightly with your fingertips, tapping the precious metals in thought. 

“Avery?” Tolliver's voice was strained, and a desperate plea lay open in his eyes, causing you to shift your gaze downward. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snapped, surprised when you saw him visibly flinch. “I don't forgive you. I won't.” You sighed, and once Roberts saw reluctance etch itself across your features, a ghost of a smile danced at the corner of his lips, and he relaxed his shoulders. 

“HOWEVER,” you continued. “I'm curious as hell to find out what's over there. So, I will... _prolong_ any escape attempts until we return from...wherever that place is.” At this point, Tolliver's face had broken out in a full-on grin. 

“I mean it!” You warned, raising your pointer finger at him threateningly. “The _moment_ we step off that rock, I'm throwing everything I've got into getting away from here.”

He clasped his hands together in glee. “I look forward to you spilling all the juicy details on your escape plan in the very near future, then. Alright!” He glanced around at the crew members that had begun to emerge from their quarters, seemingly all geared up with coils of rope and pickaxes, weapons sheathed and holstered at their sides. 

“Ladies and gents, lower the boats. The sea has come through for us, once again.”


End file.
